Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“OKAY, I thought we decided to start getting the good creamer. Where is the good creamer? I swear we talked about getting the good creamer.”

“That coffee creamer costs a whole dollar extra,” Aether says, dead-eyed. He’s been watching Childe pace the kitchen with all the poise and drama of a scandalized cat, and it’s been close to five minutes, now, and he would really like to use the kitchen. “We’re getting the cheap stuff.”

“But it’s hardly even real creamer!” Childe cries, the fridge slamming shut. “I told you, it tastes completely different! It’s not real milk!”

They come from different walks of life, the lot of them. Childe’s walk of life meant up until now, he was blessed with bougie coffee creamer. 

(That isn’t to say their previous lives were better than the ones they have now, because hell no. They’re each pursuing a life beyond what they were forced into by genetics and blood. But that doesn’t mean they can’t tease each other about the inconsequentialities of it every now and then. Childe’s sticking point is brand names.)

“It doesn’t taste different. Are you almost done?  I want a bagel.”

“Urgh, fine.” With dramatics he’s only half serious about, Childe flings himself into a seat at the dinner table. Aether stands to replace him in the kitchen. “You’ll see. One of these days we’ll be able to afford the good creamer, and then you’ll understand.”

“Okay.” Aether pops a bagel into the toaster and selects a jam while he waits. “Has Kaeya left for work yet?”

“No, but Zhongli has. He took a shift out of nowhere earlier; the guy needs to stop picking up after his coworkers.”

“Knowing him, I don’t think his motives are that pure. But yeah,” the toaster pops and Aether grabs a plate, “if he doesn’t start taking more time to himself soon, we’ll sic Xiao on him.”

Childe has the gall to snort, after the show he put on and everything. “Sure, sure. That’ll do it.”

Between the five of them, there are three unspoken, mutually agreed upon fundamental truths. One of which is that Zhongli has an irrefutable soft spot for Xiao and pretty much nobody else. Aether won’t say he doesn’t understand, though—he doesn’t know what it was about Xiao that made the four of them mutually decide, “Ah, yes. I would die for you,” after just one meeting, but, well, here they are. And that soft spot means Xiao has the most sway over whether or not Zhongli overworks himself. 

Actually.

“Is Xiao up yet?” Childe asks just as Aether opens his mouth to. “It isn’t like him to sleep in—he has classes at nine, right? He’s going to be late if he doesn’t get a move on.”

Aether checks his phone for the time. 8:07am. Xiao is a night owl by nature, but he’s always up by 6am on class days. This isn’t like him. “Yeah, I’m not sure. Unless Zhongli was dropping him off on the way to work, he’s probably still in bed.”

Childe just shrugs. “Well, he was up late last night cramming. Doesn’t surprise me.”

Further down the hall, Kaeya kicks the door open. Aether knows it’s Kaeya, not because he sees Kaeya kick the door open, but because Kaeya is the only godforsaken person in this good and holy apartment that kicks doors open at 8:00am.

Kaeya swings himself into the room. Aether wishes Xiao had woken up at his usual time; he’s outnumbered by theatre kids. “Your local rising star,” Kaeya bows, nearly flinging off his McDonald's employee visor, “has arrived.” 

Childe nearly spits his coffee across the room. 

Aether tears a bite out of his bagel. “Hi Kaeya.” 

Kaeya grasps at his chest with a theatrical gasp. Childe keeps coughing, cackling in between.

“How rude,” Kaeya says. “You greet the local rising star in such a manner?”

“Bye Kaeya.”

“HEY.”

“Aren’t you gonna be late?” Childe says, once he’s recovered enough to speak (now cleaning coffee off the table). “You were supposed to leave ten minutes ago.”

“AH.” Kaeya zips toward the door. “Farewell, my fellow countrymen! Just you wait, by the time I get back I’ll be more than the rising star of the fashion industry—I’ll own the fashion industry!” 

“Have fun at McDonald’s, Kaeya,” says Aether.

“Bring me a McFlurry.” 

Shoes untied but in place, Kaeya reiterates his flare for the dramatics with another hand to his chest, before saluting with two fingers and disembarking. Aether locks the door behind him and turns to Childe.

“He needs a different job.” 

“Yeah.” Childe sighs, resting his elbows on the table and leaning his chin against them. “He’s been a lot more extra than usual. He’s overcompensating for something.” 

Aether sighs. “I wish there was something we could actually do about it. But,” 

“Bills,” they say at the same time. 

With the exception of Zhongli, whose paid internship is specifically geared to forward his future career, they’re all working jobs just to make ends meet. Kaeya works at McDonald’s, obviously; and then Childe works afternoon to night at a warehouse, and Aether works night to early morning at a garden center. Xiao is the only one without a consistent paycheck—he works weekends at a pet supply and spends the rest of the week walking dogs and pet sitting—but they’ve never had any issues with it. He always makes his share of the rent on time. 

… Actually.

“Is Xiao still not awake?” Aether checks the time again. “He has class in thirty minutes.” Xiao is nothing if not diligent and scheduled; he loves his routines and takes pride in the ones he has any sort of say in. It really isn’t like him.

“Uh.” Childe checks the time, too, like he hadn’t just seen Aether already do that. “Yeah, okay, I’ll go wake him up.” Childe gets to his feet, and maybe he is just using it as an out to not finish cleaning up the coffee, but, it’d be worth it for Xiao (and Aether will just tell him to do it when he gets back). “You willing to drive him? My car’s only got enough gas to get me to the station, I don’t wanna make him late.”

“Yeah, I’ll drive him there.” Xiao usually walks, but given the time he’d probably appreciate a ride. “And you should get in the habit of filling your tank before it’s running on fumes. What if there was an emergency?”

Childe pats him on the shoulder on his way toward the hall. “Alright, alright, I’ll think about it. Get ready to drive, Xiao’s gonna be pissed when he realizes how much he’s slept in.” 

Childe disappears down the hall, and Aether finishes the last two bites of bagel in peace. Hopefully Xiao isn’t too frustrated with himself for sleeping in like this if it wasn’t on purpose. The kid’s barely eighteen and he’s already carrying a lot of weight on his shoulders, most of which digs into his self-worth and breeds fear from his confidence. 

Aether sighs and pours himself a cup of coffee for the road. It’s a good thing he’s driving Xiao today. Hopefully it’ll give him the chance to talk him up from whatever self-depreciative low this morning deals him.

“Holy shit— Aether!”

Childe.

Aether runs. Doesn’t think, doesn’t breathe—kicks off from the kitchen floor, trips and catches himself and swings around the corner into Xiao’s and Zhongli’s shared bedroom. Xiao is on the floor eyes-closed and breath labored. Childe kneels beside him.

“Xiao.” Childe snaps in his face. “Xiao!” 

“What happened?” Aether hits the carpet beside Childe, 911 already zipping through his head. He left his phone in the kitchen, stupid—

“I woke him up, he stood up for like two seconds and then he— dropped.” Childe reaches for Xiao’s wrist, pinching his pulse point and holding his breath. “It—he’s been out for about twenty seconds, if it’s more than two minutes—” 

Aether scrambles to his feet and runs for his phone. 

Twenty one, twenty two, twenty three, twenty four—

He snags it off the counter and pivots.

Twenty six, twenty seven, twenty eight, twenty nine—

“Xiao, come on, buddy, talk to me. Shit, he’s burning.” Childe touches Xiao’s cheek with the back of his free hand. The other one—trembling as it is—is still clamped firmly around Xiao’s wrist. “Xiao? Xiao, come on.”

Thirty nine, forty, forty one—

Aether’s thumb hovers over Call. He doesn’t remember dialing 911.

Forty four—

Xiao groans, squeezing his eyes shut tight before cracking them open. His gaze is glassy, unfocused, fever-bright and clouded, but he’s conscious. Aether falls back onto his calves and Childe’s sigh of relief is just as tangible.

“Hey, bud, can you hear me?” Childe presses the back of his hand against Xiao’s temple. “Do you know what happened?”

Xiao blinks, long and tired. “I… was late for classes. You woke me up.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And I…” Xiao blinks again. “I… fell.”

“You fainted, actually, but close enough.” Childe sits back, casting Aether a look over his shoulder that says Stay close, keep the phone. “You’ve got one hell of a fever, you aren’t going anywhere today. Not school, not work, just bed.”

Xiao groans.

“Come now, don’t be like that. Kids are supposed to like taking school off, you get to hang back and watch stupid TV shows and play video games. Mario Kart is where it’s at, amirite?”

Xiao groans louder. Childe laughs, but it’s just tight enough for Aether to hear the strain in it. Aether’s heart has stopped racing, but it hasn’t stopped hammering, and he hasn’t set down his phone. It was just a fever. That’s why Xiao fainted. He got dizzy, he’s probably been dehydrated in his sleep for hours, he stood up too fast and blacked out. He’s fine. 

“Do you think you can sit up if I help you, or do you just wanna catch your breath for a sec?” Childe asks, hand now settled on his shoulder. “We can do either one.”

It’s hard to tell how much Xiao is comprehending, which is… concerning, to say the least, but Aether’s had a high fever before, too, and it’s messy, rattling stuff. Xiao’s probably just exhausted and brain-fried. “I… think I can sit up.”

“Aight.” Childe grips his shoulder tighter as Xiao presses his palms flat on either side of him and begins to push himself upright. Child steadies him the whole way through, shifting his hand from Xiao’s shoulder to between his shoulder blades as soon as he’s off the floor. It doesn’t take long, but Xiao is two shades paler for it, breaths pinched. “You okay? How’re you feeling?”

Xiao swallows. “I—” 

He throws up.

Aether almost hits Call, barely reigning himself in time. Childe starts hard, too, but composes himself so fast it’s like nothing happened at all.

“Okay, okay—” Childe wraps an arm around Xiao’s chest, bracing him. “Okay, you’re okay. It’s okay.”

He shoots Aether a glance that speaks a thousand words, none of which Aether can name but all of which he understands. Aether gets his feet underneath him and guns it. From the bathroom: towels, a thermometer, Tylenol, cold plasters. From the kitchen: a bowl of cold water. Half of the water ends up sloshed on the floor in between the kitchen and bedroom, but that’s a problem for a him that doesn’t have his hands and head already full. 

He trips into the room, where his phone has timed out and Childe has Xiao in his arms. “It’s okay, bud,” Childe murmurs, “it’s okay. We’ve gotcha.”

Aether forgets, sometimes, that Childe is an older brother (despite a second of their three fundamental truths falling along the lines of: Childe is an asshole, but he’s an asshole with a heart that makes up for it enough that we let him stay ). He also forgets, sometimes, that Xiao is still just a teenager with too much on his shoulders, and the way Xiao’s fingers twist into Childe’s shirt as his shoulders hitch breaks Aether’s heart a little.

“I’m sorry,” Xiao croaks, but Childe is already shaking his head.

“You’re sick, it’s not your fault,” Childe says. “But we should get you into some clean clothes and a clean room—how’s the couch sound? It’s not ideal, but, it’ll be a lot less stuffy. What do you think?”

Xiao hiccups, and for a second Aether is worried he’s going to vomit again, but it doesn’t happen. “I-It sounds fine.”

“Okay. Let’s get you sorted, yeah?”

“39.4,” Childe reads off the thermometer, before whistling and setting it off to the side. “Yeah, that’s pretty high. No wonder you’re so out of it; poor kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” Xiao objects, but it isn’t a very convincing argument. As it is, his voice is nearly gone already, and the marbled glaze over his eyes and the fetal position he’s curled himself into on the couch don’t  exactly sing threatening. “I’ll go to work tomorrow.”

“You won’t be going anywhere for a while,” Aether says, moving closer. Xiao regards him with a weak glare, but Aether knows him well enough to not take it personally. He’s frustrated, angry and he doesn’t feel well; Aether gets it. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to go at least twenty four hours without a fever before we’re letting you do anything strenuous.” 

“And even then,” Childe says, “you should still take some extra time to make sure you’ve rested and recovered fully. A relapse wouldn’t be good, would it?”

It’s hypothetical, not at all a question, but Xiao still bites his lip and argues, “But what if I’m fine tomorrow? I’ll be missing work for no good— rea—”

He shoves himself up onto his elbow, and Childe has enough foresight to shove the trash bin beneath his chin before he’s retching again. Aether doesn’t want to watch, so he makes himself useful instead, racing into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water (which, in hindsight, he should have done first). By the time he makes his way back into the living room, Xiao is dry heaving over the bin while Childe braces him with one arm around his chest and the other over his shoulders.

“You’re fine, kiddo.” Childe makes eye contact with Aether long enough to see the water, and when he holds out a hand, Aether passes it to him. “Think you can sip some of this? You need to try and stay hydrated.”

Xiao shakes his head, but takes a sip anyway and doesn’t immediately throw it up. Aether hopes that becomes a trend. 

“Did Zhongli go to work?”

Ah. Childe tenses. Aether tenses. It makes sense that Xiao would seek out Zhongli. Not that Aether and Childe are doing a poor job of caring for him (or, at the very least Childe isn’t. Despite having a twin sister, Aether feels out of his element), but Zhongli and Xiao are easily the closest duo of the lot of them. Zhongli was the one who took Xiao under his wing after finding him out on the streets. It only made sense.

“He did,” Aether says quietly. “He took up an extra shift this morning, but he won’t be back late.”

“I can text him?” Childe offers. “Just to let him know you aren’t feeling too hot, so he doesn’t pick up another shift tonight. He has been known to do that.”

“N-No, no, it’s okay.” Xiao shakes his head, but try as he might, he isn’t fooling anyone—not even himself. He’s downright crestfallen, and illness has loosened the walls that usually guard that vulnerability. “H… He’s working. I don’t want to—bother him.” 

“You wouldn’t be bothering him,” Aether says. “But I understand. You should still rest, though—you need to sleep as much as you can if you’re going to get better quickly.”

Childe nods, already urging Xiao to lay down once more. It doesn’t take very much urging. “Aether’s right. Rest, now. We’ll take care of the rest.”

Xiao is out in minutes, curled into his side with his hands fisted against the crook of his neck, breaths shaky and unconvincingly shallow. Childe sighs deeply.

“I’ll call his teachers.”

“I’ll call his work,” Aether says.

Childe stays at the couch and Aether steps into another room.

It doesn’t take a lot of convincing. Aether barely gets through the words high fever before Xiao’s boss is demanding Xiao stay home and come nowhere near his workplace until he’s gone twenty four hours without fever. Aether didn’t even get to the part about him throwing up, but he’s sure that would only further solidify his boss’ convictions. Xiao’s teachers have similar things to say, only they tack on an additional homework qualification that Childe promptly ignores and tells them off over (“He’s sick, he won’t be picking up any homework and I’m not gonna make him do it. He’ll just have to catch up when he’s feeling better.”). It’s smooth sailing enough.

Xiao throws up again, though. Aether and Childe have barely finished exchanging the news when Xiao sticks his head in the bin and brings up the water they’d forced on him. They run through the same procedure a second time, and Xiao is soon once again curled up and asleep under a thin throw blanket with not enough water in his system that he hopefully won’t bring up a second time—and then, to make matters worse, Childe’s phone goes off.

“It’s Zhongli,” Childe says, and Aether can hear it in his voice before the words are even out. “He picked up another shift. He won’t be home until late.”

“Tell him he can’t,” Aether says. “He doesn’t need to pick up all this extra work, Xiao—”

“I’m gonna chew the shit out of him when he gets home tonight,” Childe says, “but I can’t tell him to drop the shift now. It’d crush Xiao if he found out and he doesn’t need that. God.” Childe runs a hand through his hair. “Why today of all days, Zhongli…” 

“Do you know when Kaeya is getting off?”

“Same time as always, I think—between four and five.”

“And Zhongli will be back around...?”

“Nine or ten. My shift starts at three unless I need to call off, but you’ll be here, and then Kaeya will be here not too long afterward, so you’ll probably be fine without me. When do you go in tonight?”

“Seven,” Aether says, “but I’m probably going to call off. I took an extra shift earlier this week; I can manage.” 

“Okay.” Childe nods, mind already somewhere else. “Alright. Good.” 

Kaeya is a good guy with decent enough intentions, but he wouldn’t be able to handle a sick teenager on his own, especially not after working the nine-to-five. His sick-person expertise lie more in the stage after the worst of an illness, when the ailed is at least up to video games or making fun of romcoms (it’s deflection, actually, because Kaeya doesn’t want to admit they’re his favorite genre, but that’s for a different day). As it stands, Xiao is nowhere close to that stage. Enter: Aether.

“Thank you for taking the initiative,” Aether says. Before he can go and and get to the meat of the gratitude, Childe shakes his head. 

“It’s fine,” he says. “I’m just pissed he’s this sick.”

There’s more to it than that, but, Aether knows better than to try digging right now. They’re both worried, they’re both stressed and they’re both upset this had to happen to Xiao of all people. They’ll make do and pretty soon things will be okay again.

For now, they continue their vigilance.

Aether texted Kaeya just before he got off work, giving him a brief rundown of the situation and asking him to grab a few supplies from the market on his way home. Kaeya agrees, of course. He even offers to pick up some almond tofu from Xiao’s favorite hole in the wall restaurant, which is thoughtful, but Xiao hasn’t been able to hold down water, so food isn’t a good idea. The compromise is that they’ll take Xiao out to lunch once he feels better.

Childe leaves for work after making Aether promise to call him if Xiao gets worse or if he needs anything at all, and Kaeya’s home an hour later, closing the apartment door behind him with caution so outside his usual character, Aether half expects Zhongli. 

“I bought stuff,” Kaeya murmurs, hoisting up a grocery bag. Xiao is curled on the couch, asleep, with Aether sat on the floor beside him flipping through a text book. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s been better,” Aether says, voice low. “This is the longest he’s gone without throwing up since this morning, he’s been asleep for three hours.”

“Three hours?” Kaeya leaves the grocery bag on the coffee table and kneels opposite of Aether, reaching out to touch Xiao’s fever-flushed face. “Oh damn.”

“Yeah.”

“Has it gone down at all?”

“No, but he hasn’t been able to keep anything in his system long enough to make a difference. I’m not surprised.” Worried, but not surprised.

“Right, right. Okay.” Kaeya gets his feet beneath him again. “I’m gonna go shower so I don’t smell like grease and fast food, but I’ll be back.”

“Take your time.”

Kaeya tousles Xiao’s hair gently on his way out.

Xiao gets an additional hour of sleep in after that, but it doesn’t last. He’s uncomfortable, groggy and generally unhappy next he opens his eyes, and though he doesn’t dry heave or gag again, it’s clear the nausea is still a lingering threat. He shakes his head at the water Aether offers him, only managing a sip when Aether says it’s important for his recovery (all the while praying he’s able to hold it down this time). Kaeya suggests movies and games to help keep his mind off it, but Xiao just curls into a tighter ball in response, and that says it all.

“When will Zhongli get home?” Xiao asks. His voice is stronger than it was before—no doubt thanks to the vomiting respite and the water he’d managed—but the pain and frustration behind it is clear.

“Not long now,” Kaeya says. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

Kaeya isn’t the best with words. But it’s common knowledge that Kaeya isn’t the best with words, so the four of them default to reading between the lines for his intentions. His intention here is to be a comfort, as well as he knows how to. Xiao probably sees that.

Even so, Xiao tucks his face against his hands no doubt in an effort to hide his expression from them. “Will you wake me up when he gets home?”

“You need the sleep,” Aether says. “But you’ll see him sooner than you think. Okay?”

(Screw Childe, Aether is going to chew Zhongli out for taking two extra shifts today, because, that’s ridiculous on a normal day, what the hell.)

Xiao isn’t happy, but he doesn’t argue again.

Try as he might, Kaeya can’t stay awake. Aether and Childe’s verdict earlier was too correct: work is stressing him out a lot more than he’d ever exhibit, and Kaeya was already running on empty before knowing Xiao was sick. He makes it until nine before Aether finally gives him a harsh shove to the shoulder.

“Go to bed, I’ll stay with him.” 

Kaeya shakes his head. “I can stay up,” he says, all the while rubbing sleep from his eyes. “What if you need something? It’s fine.”

“We’re all susceptible to getting sick with Xiao like this,” Aether says. “We need to give ourselves a chance, and that means resting when we’re able to. I’ll wake you up if something happens.”

(That’s a lie. If a disaster is beyond Aether’s help, Kaeya won’t be able to do shit. But Kaeya has a genuine heart that wants to help, so Aether would never say any of that.)

Kaeya sighs, but nods tiredly and stands. “Okay, just. Take care of him? I don’t like seeing him like this.”

The common denominator between the lot of them. Aether nods, Kaeya ruffles Xiao’s hair and murmurs, goodnight, then his footsteps trace him down the hallway and Aether barely hears Kaeya’s bedroom door click shut.

Aether takes a long look at Xiao’s sleeping but unrestful face and sighs.

Then his phone vibrates. He has to blink several times before his eyes adjust to the screen—it’s dark out now and he didn’t turn on any lights, because Xiao needs to sleep—but once they do, he sees 9:34pm for time and Childe’s contact for a message. It’s outside of their group chat, so free of zany nicknames—which is nice, considering the context of the situation. But it also makes everything feel just a little too real, and Aether isn’t a fan.

[Childe]
is Zhongli there yet?

[Aether]
no but he should be back soon.
he cares too much about his sleep schedule to be back after ten

[Childe]
Yeah true
how’s Xiao?

[Aether]
he’s been sleeping for awhile
hasn’t thrown up for a few hours

[Childe]
oh good
hopefully that means the worst has passed

[Aether]
i hope so
i’ll let you know when zhongli gets back

[Childe]
cool thanks
see you tomorrow

[Aether]
cya

The front door clicks open. Aether’s head snaps up and he makes direct, immediate eye contact with Zhongli, who is inside and already closing the door behind him. Zhongli looks as decently put together as always, if a little more tired around the edges than usual. But that only makes sense, given how much he’s worked. It’s not fair the guy can look as put together as he does after a fourteen hour work day (also the guy really needs to stop working fourteen hour work days).

Zhongli blinks at Aether, confused. “You’re still home?”

Then, either his eyes finish adjusting or he takes in the rest of the room, because then his gaze falls on Xiao. 

“Oh, gods.”

Zhongli crosses the room quickly, throwing his messenger bag down and kneeling at the couch. He presses a hand to Xiao’s forehead, expression tight.

“He’s been sick since this morning,” Aether says. “Some sort of really bad flu, probably. He’s been throwing up on and off all day.”

“All day?” Zhongli’s voice is thin, eyes wrought. “Why didn’t you contact me? I would have come home.”

“You’re here now,” Aether says. He can feel the relief in his own shoulders—Xiao is most comfortable around Zhongli, and Zhongli, as is common knowledge, is soft for the kid. Things are just a little more okay now than they were before. “You know how Xiao would react. It doesn’t matter.”

Zhongli doesn’t answer. He was listening, surely, just more focused on Xiao.

“Tell me everything.”

Aether starts with Xiao fainting and ends with Xiao rebuffing Kaeya’s movies and games. (He leaves out the parts about Xiao asking for him, because Zhongli probably doesn’t need any more reason to be angry with himself.) It doesn’t take long, and Zhongli remains quiet throughout.

“He hasn’t thrown up in a while,” Aether says, “but before then, he couldn’t keep anything down.”

Zhongli nods, a weight set deep in his golden irises. “I should have been here.” It’s not directed at Aether, so Aether doesn’t respond. “Has he taken anything for it?”

“No. He hasn’t been able to stomach much, so I didn’t want to force it.”

Zhongli nods again. “I understand. But given his fever, we should probably try—”

Xiao stirs, pressing his knees further into his chest with a small, unhappy noise. Zhongli tucks some of Xiao’s hair behind his ear.

“Xiao, are you awake?”

Xiao’s eyes snap open to meet Zhongli’s, still glassy and disoriented, but this time, there’s disbelief, too. “Y… You’re back?”

Zhongli nods. “Yes, I’m back. I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

Xiao melts into the couch, truly relaxed for the first time all day. “It’s okay. I was fine.”

“I’m sure.” Zhongli smooths Xiao’s hair out of his face once more before settling a hand over both of Xiao’s. “But I’m here, now. How are you feeling?”

Aether backs out of the room to give them space, the tension finally (finally) slipping from his shoulders. Zhongli will know what to do. Xiao is okay.

“Aether. Wake up.”

That’s not fair, Aether feels like he’d only just fallen asleep. He doesn’t want to wake up. But Zhongli is shaking him and it’s probably important, so he sits up with a groan and rubs his eyes. His bed is so comfortable tonight, too, none of this is fair.

“Yeah, wassup…?”

“I am sorry for waking you. I’m taking Xiao to the ER; I wanted to tell you, in case you woke up and found us gone.”

“Oh, sure.”

His mind catches up.

Xiao is sick. 

“Wait, waitwaitwait,” Aether throws the blanket off, heart in his throat, god, he knew he shouldn’t have slept, even when Zhongli pushed him to it, he should have known— “You’re taking Xiao to the ER? What’s going on, is he okay?”

“Don’t panic,” Zhongli says, and the calm and collection in his voice brings Aether’s heart down to something more normal. Thankfully the outburst hadn’t woken his roommate; Kaeya does not cope well with stress. “His life isn’t in danger, but he’s throwing up consistently again and can’t keep anything down. I’m concerned about dehydration.”

That makes sense, that makes sense. He panicked for nothing. “Okay.” He takes a moment to catch his breath, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes and nodding. “Do, do you need help getting ready? Or I can go with you, or both, or—”

“No, no, everything is fine,” Zhongli says. “It would be best if only I take him, I think. He’s rather overwhelmed.” 

That makes sense, too. Aether nods. “Alright, I… yeah, of course. Can—Can I say goodbye to him? Before you leave?”

“Of course.”

Aether hops out of bed and sprints past Zhongli down the hall, thankful that Kaeya is a heavy sleeper. The guilt is still there—he really should have stayed up with Zhongli, even if Zhongli told him to go to bed and even if it would have made him a hypocrite after he said the same thing to Kaeya—but he feels better, knowing it isn’t an emergency. They’ll give him fluids and anti-nausea meds and he’ll be home recovering and kicking Kaeya’s ass in Mario Kart in no time.

The living room is still dark, but Aether was just asleep, so his eyes don’t need adjusting. Xiao is leaning his side into the back of the couch, wearing the same sweatpants he’d changed into earlier, with the addition of a faded yellow sunflower hoodie. It’s an older hoodie and not one of Xiao’s favorites: practical for a trip to the ER, but not the most comforting. He already has his shoes on, too, knees tucked into his chest with no regard for their no-shoes-on-couch policy. Not that Aether cares, either.

Xiao collapses in on himself more as Aether sits beside him. “Zhongli told me what’s going on. I’m sorry you don’t feel well. But they’ll be able to help you start feeling better. You’ll be home in no time.”

Xiao squeezes his knees with his forehead pressed against them. His voice comes out broken. “I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

Aether’s throat grows tight, and before he can think about it twice, he wraps his arms around Xiao’s shoulders and draws him close. Xiao has gotten more used to physical contact since living with them, but in the past, he’s still been tense when hugged or touched unexpectedly. This time, he just melts into Aether’s shoulder, sweaty and feverish and exhausted, and Aether’s eyes burn.

“You’ll be back soon,” Aether promises. “Just hang in there, alright? You’ve got this. It’ll be okay.”

Xiao nods.

Footsteps draw Aether’s attention toward Zhongli, standing nearby with a backpack slung over his shoulder. Overnight things, probably. Just in case the ER decides to admit him.

“Do you need me to carry you?” Zhongli asks.

Xiao shakes his head, slowly pulling out of Aether’s arms and rubbing his eyes. “No, I’m fine.”

“Alright.”

Xiao stands slowly, Zhongli reaching out to grasp his shoulder just in case, but there’s no issue. He makes it and doesn’t faint again. Aether gets to his feet, too.

“Drive safely,” Aether says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. “Text me updates if you can.”

“Of course.” Zhongli nods, one hand still on Xiao’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Aether locks the door behind them and watches from the window until Zhongli’s car is out of sight.

Chapter Text

“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” Xiao says quietly. He said the same thing to Aether, moments before Aether embraced him, and his voice now is just as small. “I’d get better on my own.”

Zhongli is too distracted for this. Maybe he should have let Aether drive after all. 

“I’m sorry,” Zhongli says, “but I cannot negotiate this. You need more help than we can give you on our own. It will be worth it, Xiao.”

Xiao stares out the window, his hands crammed against his chest and his back pressed in between the door and the backrest. It’s just like that night— the night Zhongli found him alone and exhausted and afraid. Xiao isn’t alone anymore, but this trip reminds Zhongli of that night too much, and it makes his throat tight.

“How’s the temperature? Should I turn down the AC?”

“It’s fine.”

Zhongli wishes he were better with small talk. And children. And, honestly, a lot of social intricacies that come so naturally to people like Aether, Childe and Kaeya. But Xiao trusts him, and that is something Zhongli knows beyond hesitation. Perhaps that is enough. 

Xiao shifts and digs his temple into the window. “Are we almost there?”

“We still have about ten minutes of driving,” Zhongli says, eyes on the road again. Midnight is the worst time for an ER visit; Zhongli casts a quick but heartfelt prayer to anyone who is listening that the ER isn’t crowded and Xiao will be taken care of in good time. “Do you feel nauseous?”

Xiao keeps looking out the window. Zhongli lets the silence run its course. His patience ebbs first.

“Xiao.”

“Yes, I am,” Xiao says, “but not like I’m going to throw up, just…” He shifts in an attempt to get comfortable, but ultimately falls right back into the same position. “Dizzy. And carsick. Can we stop talking for now?”

“Of course.” It doesn’t matter that Xiao had equal credit instigating their conversations. Zhongli focuses on the road. “We’ll be there shortly.”

“‘Kay.”

They settle into the silence, Xiao watching the passing city, Zhongli watching him and the road. 

Had he overreacted? No, he couldn’t have. Xiao’s fever is high and has well overstayed its welcome, not to mention the vomiting is excessive. Even if Xiao were able to recover from it on his own, the road to get there would be excruciating, and Zhongli cannot allow that on his watch.

“Zhongli?”

“Yes?”

“I might actually throw up.”

“Alright.” He reaches behind him, feeling for the bin he’d stashed there until his fingers close around the lip, and he settles it within Xiao’s reach. “Don’t try to hold it in. It’s alright.”

Xiao takes the bin into his lap and Zhongli rests a hand between his shoulder blades, tracing small circles there. Comfort isn’t a verse he’s practiced in, but Xiao is important to him. He’ll learn.

“It’s alright,” Zhongli says again. Xiao’s shoulders hitch, knuckles white at the lip of the bin. “Deep breaths.”

Xiao sucks one in like he hasn’t been breathing the whole trip. It comes out as a retch. There’s nothing left in his system to get up—Zhongli didn’t even have him sip any water before they left. It’s unproductive and dry, heaving under Zhongli’s palm, and he would give anything to take it away from him.

“It’s alright. Shh.” Zhongli squeezes the back of his neck. “Deep breaths. Deep breaths. We’re almost there.”

Xiao doesn’t let go of the bin for the rest of the ride. Zhongli is definitely speeding.

“Alright.” Zhongli finds a parking spot as close to the entrance as he can, and it’s a lot farther than ideal. If even a third of the vehicles here are parked for the emergency room, it’s going to be crowded. “We’re here, Xiao. I’ll come help you out.”

Xiao nods, freeing his fingers from Zhongli’s sleeve with reluctance Zhongli feels in his trembling. Zhongli cuts the engine and dismounts, shutting his door before wrapping around the front of the car and opening Xiao’s. He’s still clutching the bin like it’s the only thing he’ll ever have to hold onto again.

“Okay.” Zhongli undoes the seatbelt, first, then pries Xiao’s clammy fingers from the lip of the bin and settles it outside the car. He’ll ponder what to do with it later; currently, this vehicle is his and Xiao’s means home after all the hospital jargon is over, and he doesn’t want to drive home in a smelly car that would potentially make Xiao sicker. “Are you able to walk? If not, I can carry you.”

“I-I can walk.” Xiao swings his legs out first and Zhongli grasps his forearms to help him upright. Xiao staggers, clutching at Zhongli’s sleeves, but doesn’t topple. “Can we get this over with?”

“Of course.” Zhongli snags the backpack from the back seat, keeping a balancing grip on Xiao’s forearm . “Let’s go.”

It isn’t a long walk, but Zhongli curses it nonetheless. Xiao stumbles into the walk with his shoulders rounded in on himself like he’s trying to disappear, and it’s all Zhongli can do to help him balance until they’ve made it onto the curb and through the automatic doors. (At least they’re automatic.)

It’s too crisp. Too bright. From 2am dark to limelight, Zhongli would have half a mind to curse that, too, hadn’t he understood that ample lighting in a hospital is vital. Xiao careens into Zhongli’s side to hide his face, and Zhongli wraps an arm around his shoulders and leads him toward reception.

It isn’t as busy as Zhongli feared. There are two people in line and another five scattered about the waiting room, and, at least from the lobby’s perspective, there are no ride-or-die emergencies that aren’t already being tended. Hopefully that means Xiao can be seen in good time.

“Hi, yes—” Zhongli steps forward with Xiao when it’s their turn, straightening his posture and ignoring the climbing tension in his neck. “This is my roommate, Xiao. He’s run a high fever since early yesterday morning and hasn’t been able to stomach anything.”

“Alright—Xiao, can you spell your name for me? First and last.”

Xiao’s voice is feeble and tired as he answers, and he doesn’t move from Zhongli’s side.

“Date of birth?”

“April seventeenth.”

“What year, honey?”

“20XX.”

“Thank you.” She clacks away at her keyboard. “Any known allergies to medications?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay. Any rashes or hives?”

“No.”

“Any traveling out of the country recently or exposure to someone who has traveled out of the country within the past two weeks?”

“No.”

“Alright.” She rises to a stand, gesturing for them to follow. “We’re just gonna take your vitals and you’ll be all set. Right here—yes, go ahead and have a seat. A nurse will be right with you. We’ll talk insurance once you’ve been situated in a room.”

Xiao tenses under Zhongli’s hands, but he ignores it for now. The receptionist has directed them to a plastic chair with metal legs and metal arms, the whole of which seems better suited for a detention classroom than a hospital. Xiao collapses into it and Zhongli takes vigil at his side while the receptionist returns to her computer.

“How’re you doing?” Zhongli asks, pressing a hand to Xiao’s forehead before Xiao can lie. “You feel warmer.”

“I’m fine,” Xiao says, but leans into Zhongli’s hand anyway, which means he is indeed lying. “Just… ready to go home.”

“I understand.”

A nurse approaches with a tight-lipped smile and ID bracelet, which she shows Xiao. “Hi, there—is everything here correct?”

Xiao Liu, 4/17/20XX, and then several long number combinations. Xiao nods. “It’s right.” He’s put up walls again, keeping appearances, even as chills wrack his shoulders and the fever tears ceaselessly at his strength. Zhongli wishes he wouldn’t.

The nurse secures the ID bracelet around Xiao’s wrist, then moves onto blood pressure. Xiao is pliant through it all, blinking emptily into space. And then the nurse takes Xiao’s temperature and Zhongli catches just the slightest fragment of fear.

“39.7,” the nurse says, shaking her head. “That’s quite the fever you’ve got there, kiddo.”

Xiao twists his shoes into the floor. “I am in the emergency room.”

“Well, we’ll do whatever we can to try and help you feel better,” the nurse says with a smile that effortlessly toes the line between sincere and professional. “That’s all your vitals, now. Go ahead and find a place to sit; we’ll call your name when we’re ready for you. Okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” Zhongli helps Xiao to his feet. The color drains from his face. “Come, Xiao.”

The exhaustion is finally taking its toll on him. Zhongli can tell just by how heavily Xiao leans into his side as Zhongli leads them away from reception and into the waiting room. They sit down at a bench out of the way of foot traffic and Zhongli draws Xiao near, guiding his head to rest against his shoulder. Xiao tenses. 

“This is a hospital,” Zhongli says. “Comfort is prioritized over appearances. The only people expected to be put together are the staff.”

“But I don’t want you t—“ Xiao’s teeth click shut. Zhongli’s heart skips. “N-Nevermind.”

“Xiao.”

Xiao balls his fists against his knees. “I said nevermind.”

“Xiao, I think no less of you. You know that, don’t you?”

Xiao drums his fingers against his knee and doesn't say anything. 

“I know how strong you are,” Zhongli says. “You don’t have to prove it to me, least of all when you’re unwell. It’s alright.”

Xiao stops drumming his fingers. “You… don’t think I’m weak?”

“Not for a moment.”

Xiao deflates with a shuddering sigh, burying his face into Zhongli’s shoulder. Zhongli feels the heat of his fever through his cardigan.

“It’s too bright,” Xiao murmurs.

Zhongli hadn’t even factored in that Xiao could have a headache. He strokes Xiao’s sweaty temples. “I’m sorry. We’ll have the lights dimmed in whatever room they show us to.”

“Y-You can do that?”

“Usually. If not, I’m certain they wouldn’t mind if we ask to have them turned off entirely, if it would make you more comfortable. We will figure it out.”

Xiao presses into Zhongli’s side in lieu of answering. His hoodie is damp with sweat, forehead blistering and breathing short, tight, like there are bands around his chest. Zhongli presses his cheek against the top of Xiao’s head, absentmindedly running a hand up and down Xiao’s arm. 

“Try and sleep if you can.”

Xiao nods into his shoulder and Zhongli keeps him close, testing his fever with the back of his knuckles every so often. It doesn’t seem to have risen any, but it’s of little comfort, knowing for how long it’s made him suffer.

“Liu, Xiao?”

Zhongli shakes him gently. “You’re up,” he says. Xiao stirs, straightening with a grimace. It’s been an hour, roughly—Xiao managed to rest through it without vomiting. Small blessings. “Can you walk?”

Xiao nods. “You don’t have to keep asking.” 

“I know, I know. But I am going to keep asking.” 

Xiao grumbles something unintelligible under his breath.

Zhongli makes brief eye contact with the nurse that’d called them, just to signal that they’d heard and are on their way; then he helps Xiao to his feet. Xiao’s chills are worse and trickle through him like ice, prickling cold sweat across his skin. Zhongli aches.

The nurse leads them into the ward (after offering a wheelchair, of course, which Xiao promptly declines before Zhongli can say a word) and after a long hall and two lefts, they’re let into a small room with a curtain where the door should be. So not very private, which, while not unexpected, is disappointing; but Zhongli notices a dimmer on the lightswitch. And there is a bed, too. Upsides.

“Go ahead and make yourselves comfortable; we’ll be right with you.”

Zhongli helps Xiao lie down, and then they’re on to their next round of medicinal questions. Life experience, where he’s living now, his relationship to Zhongli, his family, school (the attempt at small talk is the worst), all the medical history they’re aware of. Xiao, apparently, has had a heart murmur since he was eight. 

“It never came up,” Xiao defends when Zhongli turns sharply toward him. “It doesn’t really affect how I live.”

“Perhaps not,” the nurse says, clacking it in on his keyboard, “but it’s good to know, moving forward. Any known allergies to medication?”

They’ve already answered this, and Xiao is exhausted and miserable, so Zhongli hops in to answer the next onslaught of questions, letting Xiao fill in the blanks. Xiao taps the side of the bed with a lethargic lack of commitment, and Zhongli reaches out to take his hand without much thought. Xiao’s skin is clammy, too warm and wracked with tremors at the same time, and whatever color had been there is now drained from his face.

“When was the last time he threw up?” the nurse asks Zhongli—the past couple of questions have been directed toward him once Xiao zoned out. 

“It was in the car on the way here,” Zhongli says, “so, perhaps an hour or so ago—”

“m’ gonna throw up now.”

Shit.

Zhongli helps him sit, hand stationed at his shoulder to keep him steady. The nurse passes him a thin plastic bin. Xiao leans over it, gagging, but all that comes up is bile and saliva—whatever his poor system could scrounge. It’s self-sabotaging.

“Sit tight,” he hears the nurse as though from afar off, “I’m going to speak with a doctor and we can get the IV started.”

The nurse pulls the curtain shut behind him to give them whatever privacy this ER will allow. Zhongli wishes it were more. Xiao coughs. 

“Zh-Zhong—” 

“Shh, it’s alright. Breathe.” Zhongli rubs his back and damns the virus making him suffer. It isn’t fair. Xiao doesn’t deserve this. “It’s alright. Easy.”

Xiao sobs. 

The icy spike Zhongli has been staving off finally finds its way into his chest.

“Th-They’re going to find out,” Xiao chokes, coughing on his sobs as his shoulders heave. Dry sobbing, without tears. Xiao’s balled fists tremble against the bedsheet. “They’re going to know th—they can’t, they c—” 

A gag cuts him off and a sob chases it down.

Be present. He needs you to be present.

Zhongli takes Xiao’s shoulders and holds him. “Xiao, breathe.” He’s never seen Xiao cry before, not once, not even a little, not even that night. “You have to breathe.” Xiao’s nod is shaky and frantic, but he chokes in a short inhale and Zhongli squeezes his shoulders. “Who are you afraid of?”

“M-My parents.” Xiao coughs, hunching in on himself. His breath hitches again, then stops as haze replaces it. “The-they’re going to get a bill from the insurance, th-they’ll know where I am, they can’t—” 

“Okay, okay. Xiao.” Zhongli meets Xiao at eye-level, finding red-rimmed glassy eyes so full of fear they barely look like Xiao’s. “This is the only emergency room in a fifty mile radius,” Zhongli tells him. “They won’t be able to find you based on that alone.”

Xiao ducks under Zhongli’s gaze, shaking his head. “B-But, what if they—” He hiccups through clenched teeth, tremors rippling through his skin, “what if they do?”

“Then Childe, Aether, Kaeya and I will do everything in our power to make sure they don’t lay a hand on you.”

Xiao hacks out a sound. A wounded sound. A twisted, mangled sound caught in the confusion between a laugh, a retch and a sob.

“Xiao. Xiao, listen to me.”

Xiao fights to not meet his eyes, but Zhongli frames his face with his hands and tilts his head. There are better times—times when they aren’t in an ER, particularly—but he needs Xiao to hear him. He needs Xiao to understand.

“You’re your own person, Xiao,” Zhongli says.  “And if they try to take that away from you, or seek to harm you ever again, we will not let it happen. Do you understand?”

Xiao dissolves into a fresh mess of scared, frustrated tears and shaky nodding, and Zhongli pulls him into his arms and cradles him. 

There are emotions, lots of them, bursting through his chest like an earthquake—rattling, dislodging, crumbling. But they’re emotions that Zhongli tucks away to delve through later. For now Xiao needs him—gentle, calm, reassuring, Xiao needs him—and Zhongli would be damned before he left Xiao alone.

“It’s alright, it’s alright. Breathe, Xiao.”

Xiao’s fingers twist into the back of his cardigan. He will be delving into those emotions later, too.

Xiao was already exhausted beyond his consciousness, and crying was the final thread that snapped him over the edge he’d been teetering on. The nurse returns with the IV and a patient smile, one Zhongli can’t tell whether or not is completely genuine (and most likely it is, but with Xiao this sick it’s hard to give people the benefit of the doubt). Zhongli coaxes Xiao out of his arms with no small amount of prying and no small amount of guilt.

“Xiao, the nurse is here with your IV. It’ll be alright, okay?”

Xiao doesn’t even have the energy to seem embarrassed. He lets Zhongli lay him down, instinctively flailing to clutch the hem of Zhongli’s sleeve, eyes panicked.

“You aren’t falling, Xiao, it’s alright.” Xiao’s breathing is short and fast, and the feverish haze in his eyes has deepened. “It’ll be over soon. Be still.”

He smooths Xiao’s hair until he settles.

“Okay, kiddo,” the nurse moves in with the IV pole, “you’re going to feel a big stick here in just a sec.” He rolls Xiao’s sleeve to the elbow and presses into his vein with a thumb. Xiao lets him, pliant, fight sapped with the fever, and Zhongli finds Xiao’s other hand to give it a squeeze. The nurse swabs the area with an alcohol wipe, but Zhongli turns away when the needle is brought out. He doesn’t want to see that part and he doesn’t want Xiao to see it, either.

“Xiao, look at me.” Xiao meets his eyes, not entirely there, and Zhongli realizes he doesn’t actually know what to say, only that he didn’t want Xiao focused on the needle. He joins his hands around Xiao’s, swiping his thumb back and forth across Xiao’s white knuckles. “I know this is hard for you,” Zhongli says. “But you’re doing great.”

“m’hangin’ in there,” Xiao rasps.

Ah, Aether told him that, hadn’t he? Zhongli smiles gently, nodding. “Yes, you’re hanging in there,” he says. “You’re doing a fine job of it, too.”

Xiao’s smile isn’t nearly as practiced, and it sort of looks like it hurts, but the sincerity is there. 

“Alright, buddy, you’re all set.” The nurse stands, discarding the needle packaging and excess gauze and alcohol wipes. The IV has been fastened, entry point hidden beneath gauze and tape. Zhongli hopes Xiao was too distracted to feel the stick; he himself certainly was. “The drip should last about an hour, but I’ll check in after the first thirty minutes to see how you’re doing.”

“Is there anything you can give him for the vomiting?” Zhongli asks. That was his main concern, coming in; rehydrating him won’t help if he can’t keep anything down once they’re out of the hospital.

“Already in the IV,” the nurse says. “But if he does throw up again, the call nurse button is here.” He points it out; a small, red and white button on a remote-like device on the bedside table. Zhongli commits it to permanent memory. “Have someone come in to check on him, alright?”

“I will. Thank you. Oh—is it possible to have the lights dimmed?”

“Yeah, for sure.” The nurse’s smiles are reassuring now that Xiao has been taken care of, and it’s with one of those smiles that he dims the lights on his way to the door. Xiao exhales a small but noticed sigh of relief. “Is that alright?”

“That is perfect. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Get some rest, kiddo. I’ll see you both soon.”

He pulls the curtain to behind him, and that is that.

Zhongli takes in a deep breath, feeling as though he hadn’t truly breathed ever since coming home to find Xiao sick. His neck hurts. His shoulders ache. He’ll have to call in tomorrow and let his boss know he can’t work; he hasn’t slept in close to thirty six hours now, and they’re still in the ER. (That’s the logical reason, at least; the stronger, more emotional reason is that he isn’t ready to leave Xiao alone.)

Xiao shifts, most likely in an attempt to get comfortable, but gives up with a tired sigh and shuts his eyes. Zhongli rests a hand on his forehead. His fever remains strong.

“How are you feeling?”

“Weird,” Xiao croaks. “Bad weird.”

Zhongli strokes his knuckles again. “I’m sorry. It will be over soon.”

That doesn’t help the current discomfort, though. He knows that. And, Zhongli finds himself once more wishing he was better with people. Wishing he understood the genuine intricacies of emotion beyond their surface definition. Wishing he could find the perfect word, the perfect gesture, the perfect comfort. He longs to be that. He isn’t yet.

But Xiao trusts him. Xiao knows him. Maybe that can overwrite some of his clumsiness.

The ER bed is small. Of course it is—it’s only built to accommodate one person. But Xiao has always been small; Zhongli mistook him for a middle schooler on first meeting; and outside of height, Zhongli has never been a large person, either.

So.

“Xiao, could you scoot over a bit?”

Xiao, bless his heart, blinking up at him with exhaustion he can’t see the bottom of, nods and inches over. And, yes, the bed is still small and it will be precarious, but Zhongli manages to fit himself alongside Xiao, putting aside the wince he wants to give the clinical make of the bed.

“Here.” Zhongli moves the IV tubing out of the way, slips an arm beneath Xiao’s shoulders and pulls him into his side. “Sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

He prays it’s true, because Xiao trusts him, and it isn’t until Xiao’s breathing evens out that Zhongli lets himself relax.

Zhongli doesn’t know exactly how he managed to get the apartment unlocked with his arms full of sick, sleeping teenager, but damn if he isn’t just a little too proud of himself. Is this how Childe feels after accomplishing menial tasks? Maybe Zhongli is finally beginning to understand.

Regardless.

He helps the door shut with his foot, wincing at what little sound it does make, before moving across the room and settling Xiao on the couch. He has to pry Xiao’s fingers from the front of his cardigan, and the emotions left stewing in his heart remind him of their presence, but he tempers them now just as he tempered them before, settling Xiao’s hand beside him and drawing a blanket up to his shoulders. He’d put up a fight, extending well beyond what was good for him, but as soon as the IV began, Xiao’s stubbornness was loosened and the strain and exhaustion leapt to replace it. He was dazed and out of it for the rest of the visit.

Zhongli collapses by the couch with a sigh, knees aching. (He’s too young to have bad knees. His thirties are going to be an adventure.) Careful not to wake him, Zhongli reaches out to feel Xiao’s forehead; warm, but a far cry from what it was. He sighs again, this time in relief, and brushes Xiao’s hair out of his face. He was so excited for Xiao to be home and out of the stress of the hospital, and Xiao isn’t even awake to genuinely experience it for himself.

Behind him, the door opens and shuts and Zhongli meets eyes with Childe. Childe snaps to attention at once.

“You’re back,” he mouths, nearly soundless. He tugs off his shoes and hurries over in light footsteps. “Aether filled me in.”

Zhongli hums. Unsurprising. Childe is the only other night-shift worker in their home. “Where were you? I thought your shift ended much sooner.”

“Typically it does.” Childe sinks down beside him and crosses his legs. “But overtime happened, and then one of my coworkers’ cars broke down, and we couldn’t jump it, so I drove him, and it’s, like, forty minutes out of the way there and back. Speaking of, remind me to rip you a new one tomorrow. About all the extra shifts.”

“I’m taking tomorrow off.”

“Good, more time for me to rip you a new one.” It’s only half banter; Childe is genuinely upset, and Zhongli has known him long enough to tell. Especially where Xiao is involved, they’re all a bit protective. “How’s he feeling? What did the doctors say?”

“They gave him anti-nausea and put him on an IV to replenish his fluids,” Zhongli recounts. “It brought down his fever, but we still need to keep an eye on him.”

“Okay.” Childe runs a hand through his hair. “Okay, so he’s alright now. His fever is down.”

“Not gone,” Zhongli reminds, “but considerably lower, yes.”

“And he hasn’t thrown up again.”

“Not since the anti-nausea medicine. He’ll be alright.”

“Okay.” Childe inhales and lets it out in a rush. “Okay. What tests did they run? Did everything else check out okay?”

Zhongli blinks. “They didn’t run any tests.”

Childe blinks. “They didn’t run any tests?”

“No; they surmised it was some kind of flu and wanted to focus on getting him hydrated.” Tests, what tests would they have run? Should he have pushed for them to run tests? He didn’t know. “Why? Should they have run tests?”

“I…” Childe stops, conflicted. “I, maybe? Probably? I’m just surprised, given how sick he’s been. But I guess if they didn’t have any reason to think it was an underlying issue, it could’ve been overkill.” 

Maybe, but now Zhongli wishes he would have pushed for testing, or at the very least asked what sort of testing they could do. What if it hadn’t been just a flu? What if there had been an underlying cause? He shouldn’t have been so careless.

“Hey, don’t look down yet, I haven’t even lectured you.” Childe whacks him on the shoulder. “You can look dejected after I tear you to pieces tomorrow. Just be glad he’s home.”

He’s right. Xiao is sleeping soundly for the first time in close to forty hours; that is victory. Besides, Zhongli wouldn’t want Xiao to see him downtrodden.

“Wait, when was the last time you slept?”

“This time yesterday,” Zhongli says. Then, when Childe’s eyes go wide and he’s ready to let him have it, “I’m alright. I’m planning to sleep here tonight, in case he needs anything.”

“Sleep here on the floor?”

“With a blanket and pillow, yes.”

Childe sighs. “Well, you’re taking tomorrow off, so I guess that’s fine. Just take advantage of your day off and rest.”

“Of course.”

The silence settles and dwells.

“You’ve changed a lot.”

Zhongli turns. “How so?”

Childe shakes his head. “It’s not easy to put into words exactly what I mean. But anyone who knows the type of person you were before would agree with me. I know most of it’s because Xiao, but I’ve watched you… soften. Not in a bad way, or in a lazy way, but you’ve become a person who cares about how you affect people. I think that’s pretty dope.”

Of their group of five, Zhongli and Childe have known each other the longest. Their families were and still are “richer than most gods, probably” according to Kaeya (and Zhongli and Childe are the first to agree with him), which led to the two of them bonding over many awkward fancy rich dinners with their parents’ fancy rich friends. They met as middle schoolers and kept the friendship going into their early twenties; then they met Aether and got the apartment, and the rest is history.

Zhongli mulls over Childe’s words, turning them over in his head and trying to tie them in with who he was and who he is—then who he wants to be. “... Yes. I suppose you’re right.”

“Really? It came out the way I wanted it to?”

“I believe so. And, I think you’ve changed as a person, too, over the years.”

“Oh?”

“You’re ever so slightly less of a prick.”

Childe shoves him, hard. “Mine was nice.” 

“Do you not desire to be less of a prick?”

“Oh my god, I take it all back, forget I even tried to say something nice about you.” Childe gets to his feet, ruffling Xiao’s hair on his way up. “Okay, I’m going to go to bed and reflect for like, an hour. If you haven’t slept by the next time I see you, I’ll have two things to lecture you about.”

“I will keep it in the back of my mind.”

Childe rolls his eyes. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.”

“Take care of him.”

“I will.”

“Do you need anything while I’m still here?”

“Childe.”

“What?”

Zhongli smiles. “You’ve become a gentler person, too.”

Childe’s eyes go wide, just long enough for Zhongli to see the true impact of his words—but he hides it away quickly and snorts like nothing happened. “Less of a prick, right?”

“Less of a prick.” Zhongli’s smile softens. “Sleep well, Childe.”

“Yeah, you get some rest, too.”

Chapter Text

Xiao’s head hurts.

It hurts before he’s awake enough to process it. All he knows at first is that it’s uncomfortable, he doesn’t like it and he wants to go back to sleep. But then it crescendos into a deep, throbbing ache, like he’d torn a muscle in his cranium and his heartbeat is overcompensating for it, and he crushes his knees into his chest and digs his forehead into them. His sweatpants smell like sweat. His head hurts. He should sleep until it stops hurting.

And then he can’t fall asleep.

Not being able to sleep is a frustration he isn’t stable enough to dwell in, so he resigns himself to being awake and opens his eyes. His sight is blurred and his eyes are crusted, which is gross and doesn’t help him feel any more like a Person and he really doesn’t need that, but he blinks until it’s clear and that helps. He’s in the living room, his shoulder blades pressed into the back of their couch and a blanket twisted into his limbs. The lights are off, but windows sunlight overcompensate and adds bite to the throb in his skull. Stupid headache. Stupid weakness. Zhongli is nowhere to be seen, too, and that doesn’t make this easier.

Xiao sits up. The throbbing climbs to a fun new height—a towering height, one that lords over him and laughs—but he trying to sleep isn’t doing him any good, so he settles against the arm of the couch with a shiver and tries to bundle the blanket around himself. He hates how tight his fingers feel, how hard it is to think and how much his head hurts, and he hates that everything makes him want to scream, and he hates that he hates so much for no reason and he hates that he doesn’t feel like himself.

He doesn’t remember putting his phone on the coffee table, but it’s there, so he reaches for it. The medical ID bracelet is still secure around his wrist and that frustrates him in fresh new ways, but he tries to ignore it in favor of his phone, which, thank god, the brightness is already low enough that it doesn’t further damage his head.

There are a lot of notifications. Some of them are from his teacher, some of them are from other classmates, but most of them are from Venti.

Venti had texted him yesterday, when Xiao wasn’t at class. Xiao hadn’t felt well enough to respond, and he was sure Venti would understand, so he hadn’t touched his phone again. Even if he wanted to reply, he wouldn’t have felt well enough.

Venti continued to text him throughout yesterday and into this morning.

Unread (( Yesterday ))

[off-key wellerman] (11:04am)
hey Xiao! Mr. Huang said you were taking a sick day. I hope you feel better soon :( i’ll take notes for you

[off-key wellerman] (1:32pm)
Hi again Xiao! missed you at class today :( I want to bring you almond tofu but i don’t know how sick you are so i’m going to wait until you say you want it 

[off-key wellerman] (5:42pm)
XIAO I SAW A CAT
[img.png.03]

[off-key wellerman] (5:47pm)
[img.png.04]
your eye colors match theyr’e so pretty
*they’re I’m correcting it before you do

[off-key wellerman] (10:57pm)
hey Xiao! i’m sure you’re resting so I’ll leave you alone, but i just wanted to say goodnight and call me if you need anything! food, snacks, cold medicine, company, anything :D ttyl!

Unread (( Today ))

[off-key wellerman] (8:28am)
good morning xiao! I hope you’re feeling a little better <3 you’ve been on my mind this morning

[off-key wellerman] (11 minutes ago)
i just realized I texted you way too early when you’re trying to rest i really hope i didn’t wake you up and if I did i’m sorry and I’ll make it up to you

Oh. He’s worried about me.

Xiao swallows the sour clench in his gut. He should have known that not responding under these circumstances would have made Venti worry. Venti is the carefree type; the thought of that freedom getting buried beneath concern for Xiao is… 

Well, Xiao doesn’t like it.

[a cat, essentially]
you didn’t wake me up, it’s fine
i’m feeling better today. sorry I worried you.

Bubbles burst onto Venti’s side of the convo. 

[off-key wellerman]
xIAO
HI

[a cat, essentially]
hi
why did you change my screen name

[off-key wellerman]
because it suits you :D
and because you get to choose mine it’s only fair I choose yours

[a cat, essentially]
ig

[off-key wellerman]
oh I took notes for you yesterday but it was all really boring :(

[a cat, essentially]
if you find business so boring you don’t have to major in it

[off-key wellerman]
yEAH but my parents are dead set on me doing it and I don’t think it’ll be useless so I’m doing it anyway
the real question is, are you going to be at class on friday? bc that’s the fun class I’d be sad if you missed that one too

[a cat, essentially]
idk my fever needs to break first

He realizes he doesn’t know what day it is. A quick check says Wednesday.

[a cat, essentially]
I should be okay by friday. I am feeling a lot better

[off-key wellerman]
okay because we’re talking about elliptical galaxies and I don’t want you to miss it
how are you feeling btw?? you still have a fever? :(

[a cat, essentially]
yeah but i’m mainly just tired
the worst is over, i just need to sleep

[off-key wellerman]
that’s good. make sure you get a lot of rest!

[a cat, essentially]
i will
i’m going to get off the phone the screen is making me dizzy
I’m sorry again for worrying you

[off-key wellerman]
oh no it’s fine!! I worry because I care, that’s all
sleep well!! i hope you feel better

[a cat, essentially]
thanks

Xiao darkens the screen and flops back against the arm of the couch with an exhausted sigh. His head pounds.

“Oh, Xiao!”

Xiao tries not to wince. “Hi, Kaeya.”

“Hey!” Kaeya is dressed for work, and was in the middle of fastening the last button before ditching it in favor of sprinting across the room. “It’s good to see you awake, how are you feeling? Heard you wound up in the ER last night.”

“I’m feeling better.” It’s true. “Less like I’m going to barf my guts up.”

“Nice. Oh,” Kaeya reaches for the thermometer on the coffee table, “I was told to take your temperature if you woke up—you look better than yesterday, though. Your eyes aren’t as glassy. Here.” He turns the thermometer on and hands it over. Xiao holds it under his tongue.

“Did Zhongli go to work?”

“No, he took the day off, and then me and Aether convinced him to take a shower,” Kaeya says. “If you’re feeling up to it, you might wanna take a shower, too, just to get some of the gross off. Y’know?”

The thermometer is trying to do its job, so Xiao nods instead of speaking. A shower sounds really, really nice. Shower, clean clothes, maybe something for his head…

The thermometer beeps, and Kaeya swipes it before Xiao can blink. “37.6!” Kaeya cheers (too loud). “Looks like you’re out of the ‘high fever’ range. Those ER meds are magical, aren’t they?”

Xiao nods. Kaeya doesn’t have to know about the headache. Actually, none of his roommates have to know about the headache. It’ll go away soon.

“I’ve got, like—” Kaeya checks his phone. “Ten minutes before I’m off to work. I could keep you entertained until then.”

Xiao would rather sulk, actually. He’d rather sit and pretend he doesn’t have a headache, convincing himself he feels a lot better than he actually does so he can better convince his roommates. But something about that doesn’t feel right. It, too, makes him want to cry, and he hates that more than anything.

“Sure.”

Except Zhongli steps into the room, drying his hair with a towel. “Kaeya, if I gave you a list, could you run by the grocer on your way home tonight? There’s—oh.” He meets Xiao’s eyes. “You’re awake.”

“Yea—I’m fine.” It seems Zhongli crosses the room without actually moving at all, at once pressing a hand against Xiao’s forehead. “Kaeya took my temperature already, it’s barely even a fever anymore.”

Zhongli turns to Kaeya. “37.6,” Kaeya says. Zhongli exhales a long breath.

“Well, that’s wonderful to hear.” He retracts his hand and Xiao tries not to be disappointed. “Do you feel up to eating at all? Even if only something light, keeping up your strength is key if you want to recover smoothly.”

Xiao isn’t hungry, but he doesn’t feel like he’d throw up, and he hasn’t eaten in a while, so he probably should. He nods and Zhongli straightens.

“Kaeya, I’ll text you that list.” 

Kaeya salutes with two fingers. “Roger that. Also, can you not call it the ‘grocer’? Your rich kid is showing.”

All Zhongli has to do is look at him. Kaeya throws up his hands. 

“I’ll run by K-Mart.”

“Splendid.”

Zhongli disappears into the kitchen and Kaeya stands, giving Xiao’s hair a tostle. Xiao would usually scowl, or shove him off, but this time he just relishes the contact.

“Sorry, duty calls. But we can do something tonight if you’re up to it. Sound good?”

Not actually. Xiao hadn’t been up to it, but he’d wanted to, and now that he can’t, it’s more upsetting than if he’d just not decided to at all. But that’s too much to say and his head hurts too badly for him to sort through how to say it properly. “Sounds good.”

“Alright. Get some rest. You too, Zhongli.”

“I will rest an adequate amount.”

“Well, that gives me confidence. I’ll see you guys later.”

“See you.”

“Bye, Kaeya.”

Kaeya snags his keys and his shoes and sets out. Zhongli steps out of the kitchen long enough to lock the door behind him. Xiao sinks back into the arm of the couch with a sigh and a hand to his temple. A headache is the least of his concerns; he would take a raging headache over constant throwing up (gods, the throwing up was the worst), and it’s nice to not have a fever roasting his brains. But it still hurts, and no amount of pressure against his skull is helping.

He could ask for painkillers. But that would mean admitting the headache exists to begin with, and something in his gut doesn’t want that to happen.

Liu, Xiao, 4/17/20XX says his medical bracelet. He stares at it.

“Here.”

Xiao jumps. Zhongli jumps, bowl of soup in one hand and water bottle in the other.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“You didn’t,” Xiao says, trying to unfurl from his defensive ball even though he doesn’t really want to. “I zoned out. Sorry.”

“It’s alright if I did startle you, Xiao. You had a long night.” Zhongli settles beside him on the couch, handing over the water bottle. “Something on your mind?”

Xiao shakes out his wrist. “I’m going to chew through the bracelet.”

“You’re going to chew through th— no, no, do not do that.” Zhongli leaps to his feet like the couch had been doused in gasoline and Xiao held the match, “I am going to get scissors. Drink as much water as you can, let me know if the soup is too rich and do not under any circumstances chew through your bracelet.”

It was kind of a joke, but Zhongli’s reaction isn’t, which is funnier. He’s glad Zhongli is here. 

“Zhongli, it’s—”

“No. I’ll be back.”

Zhongli leaves swiftly. Xiao manages a third of the water bottle. Swallowing echoes a throb in his skull, but the water feels nice against his throat and makes him feel just slightly human again. He didn’t realize how thirsty he was. 

Zhongli has the guise of someone much more put together than they actually are, and that guise is established and upheld by masking stress with tasks. He probably panicked and is overcompensating. The guilt sinks its teeth in, deep, and Xiao’s already nonexistent appetite recoils further. But not eating won’t make Zhongli feel any better.

He’s already managed a few spoonfuls of broth when Zhongli returns with scissors and a bottle of aspirin, which is set beside the water bottle on the coffee table. Xiao stares at it. 

“What’s that for?” Xiao says. It’s hardly a question.

“You were holding your head a moment ago,” Zhongli responds, sitting beside him. “Give me your hand.” Xiao lets him cut through the bracelet. Its absence makes him feel a little more human, too. “There. Now take the aspirin, and please don’t be afraid to ask for medicine if you’re in pain.”

He says it in a tone that won’t be satisfied until Xiao takes the damn aspirin, so he takes the damn aspirin—two tablets, as directed—and swallows it with his guilt, chasing both down with water. 

His head still hurts.

“Alright, who left the stove on in the kitchen? I’m not upset, I just want to know.”

“It was probably Childe.”

“Childe has been at work for two hours. The stove has not been left unattended for that long.”

“Uh, who the hell in the house drinks tea? You’re the only person I can think of.”

“Aether drinks tea.”

“Is this really the time to be having this conversation? Xiao is trying to sleep.” 

“Aha! Deflection!” 

“Kaeya, get off the table.”

“It wasn’t deflection, I just thought it was more important that Xiao doesn’t wake up because you’re convinced I left the stove on.”

Xiao’s head still hurts, and he feels exactly the same now as he did before falling asleep. It’s disappointing, and frustrating, and if his head wasn’t trying to kill him, he would roll back over and call it a day once again.

But, unfortunately, 

“I’m awake.”

Kaeya is still on the dining table, where Aether is seated and Zhongli is near, stirring a fresh cup of tea.  Aether and Zhongli watch Xiao sit up, but soon turn glares toward Kaeya. Kaeya leaps off the table.

“You guys were just as loud! Don’t look at me!” 

“Neither of us leapt onto the dining table to wax poetic,” says Aether.

“You were waxing something,” Zhongli says, stirring his tea, “but it was not poetry.” 

It was actually the hammering in Xiao’s cranium that roused him, but it’s funner to let them believe it was their resident theatre kid. He denies nothing.

“I’m more upset that Aether drinks tea,” Xiao says. 

Aether gives him a dead-eyed look. “I drink coffee, too. No, Kaeya,” when Kaeya opens his mouth, “you don’t get a say in this. And you also don’t drink coffee.”

“You drink cream and add a spoonful of coffee,” Zhongli says, when Kaeya opens his mouth again, this time with a finger raised in pointed scandalization, “because you cannot handle the taste, but enjoy the trivial self-assurance of feeling like an adult.” 

Kaeya’s face nearly makes Aether choke. Xiao doesn’t even care that smiling tugs at the pain in his head.

“Okay, but enough of that,” Zhongli says, still stirring his tea. “Xiao, we were just discussing what to have for supper—”

“Dinner.” 

“Xiao, we were discussing what to have as a form of sustenance,” (Kaeya throws his head back with a groan), “but now that you’re awake, if you have any thoughts or input, it would be most appreciated. Kaeya, what are you groaning about now?”

“You guys are insufferable.”

“What would you rather I say? Nourishment? Provisions? Daily bread?”

“Comestibles,” provides Aether, just to tick Kaeya off.

It works. “At least Xiao is normal,” Kaeya says, “he’ll vouch for me.” 

“Provender,” Xiao says.

“Provender,” says Aether and Zhongli at the same time, like they’ve reached an epiphany. Kaeya looks like he has ended trust with everyone he’s ever known, and the rest of humanity. 

“Something… anything that isn’t fast food would be nice,” Xiao says—the thought of anything processed or greasy after throwing up so much yesterday is enough to rekindle the queasiness a little. “But that’s my only request. You guys can do whatever you want.”

“We were thinking of ordering Thai from that hole-in-the-wall place on mainstreet,” Aether says. “They have almond tofu, but they have lighter things, too, if you’re still sick to your stomach.” 

“Almond tofu sounds good.”

“Then it’s settled.” Zhongli whips out his phone, teacup in the opposite hand. He has yet to take a sip of it. “I’ll place the order, and you all can pay me back once I have the receipt. And, since I will be doing the pick-up, Aether and Kaeya have to pay an extra dollar each for delivery fee.”

  Kaeya brings his palms down onto the tabletop, hard. “Okay, hold it! What if I want to pick it up?”

Zhongli stares. “Then Aether and I will pay an extra dollar each for the delivery fee.”

“What if I want to pick it up?” Aether says.

Zhongli stares at him, next. “... Then Kaeya and I will pay an extra dollar each for the delivery fee.” 

“What if I wanna pay an extra dollar for the delivery fee?” Xiao asks. “Wait, why was I left out of this to begin with?”

“Sick people don’t pay delivery fees,” says Kaeya.

“Xiao,” Zhongli faces him, “why don’t you pick? Who do you think should deliver the food?”

“I dunno. Get in the cars and race.”

Zhongli turns back to Aether and Kaeya. “I am out of ideas.”

“We could always just play rock paper scissors,” Aether says, probably to tick Kaeya off again.

“Ugh, no!” Kaeya is quite easily predicted. “I suck at rock paper scissors!” 

“You cannot suck at rock paper scissors,” Zhongli says. “It’s a game of much luck and little strategy.”

“‘Much luck and little strategy’ my ass!”

“Come, now. Two out of three.” 

Kaeya is the first out of the round, because he is actually terrible at rock paper scissors, somehow, but of course nobody said so. Then Aether topples Zhongli and leaves for pickup, soon-to-be two dollars richer and prouder for it. Xiao just wishes his head would stop hurting. The ache is starting to crawl behind his eyes and prick away at the cavities.

“Xiao? You got quiet.”

“I’m fine,” he says, not sure how much of a lie it is. He catches Zhongli and Kaeya’s eyes on him, sees the worry he’s caused them and adds, “just… really tired.”

He doesn’t want them to worry. They already worry enough—about him, about his parents, about the baggage he’s still trying to make sense of. He’s determined not to add more to that. 

Xiao wakes up in the middle of the night, soaked in cold sweat, dizzy beyond the peak of his imagination, with a drill still trucking its way through his brain.

His fever broke. That must be it; his fever finally broke. After a full day of vomiting, a trip to the ER, a day of rest and a night of Thai takeout and cheap spy movies, his fever is finally broken.

He feels disgusting.

Carefully, Xiao slips out of bed, all too aware of Zhongli sleeping across from him. When it was clear Xiao was officially on the mend, he and Zhongli moved from the couch to their bedroom again. It’s a win for both of them, but especially for Zhongli, who has work tomorrow morning and needs a good night’s sleep. Xiao is just happy to sleep in a bed again.

He snags a clean hoodie and a pair of sweats from his open drawer on the way out, and after pulling the door shut silently behind him, drags himself toward the bathroom. The lights are too bright. It hurts. But he really wants to shower, so he ignores his bedraggled, red-eyed reflection and cranks the faucet. 

He showers for as long as the dizziness allows, dries his hair enough that it isn’t dripping all over him and slips into his fresh clothes. It’s so much nicer. The shower didn’t help his headache, but it helped the rest of him and bits of his scattered frustration, too. 

He stumbles back into his and Zhongli’s bedroom and buries himself beneath all his blankets and comforters. It’s nicer than the couch. Darker than the living room. His head still hurts, but at least Zhongli didn’t hear him get up. Now that he’s back to his normal work schedule, Xiao doesn’t want to wake him for no good reason.

Not that Zhongli would ever think it was for no reason. Xiao is quiet naturally, footsteps soft and untraceable, and yes, it was threaded into him by Trauma’s needle, but the point is: it’s handy and it comes to him as easily as anything else. For him to wake Zhongli would be out of his normal rhythm, which would mean something was the matter, and even if Xiao saw his nightmares or similar nightly hauntings as superficial, Zhongli didn’t. 

What was that about, anyway? Zhongli is nice, but he’s no saint. How much patience could he possibly have?

Or does love mean that you don’t see caring as a burden worthy of patience, but a chance to further prove the existence of that love?

He wishes he understood why someone would want to give that to him. 

He’s tired. 

Tired, in pain. But mostly tired.

His memories of the night Zhongli found him are blotchy at best and untrustworthy if he’s being honest. (How can he remember so little of the night that turned his life toward a better path for the very first time? Sure, his mental state was torn to dangling threads, left to rot and then drown, but it bothers him that he can’t remember beyond Zhongli’s gentleness and meeting to Aether and Childe.) He remembers so little that it feels as though he’d watched it from someone else’s memory vault.

Aether and Childe never gave him a reason to fear them, but the rest of Xiao’s life had given him reason to fear everything, and his fragmented emotions found something to cling to in Zhongli and his kindness—so much so that Childe, Aether and Zhongli rearranged their rooms just so Xiao could be with Zhongli, because he didn’t trust anyone else and the only thing that calmed him down was Zhongli’s presence and the absence of any other.

In hindsight, he felt terrible and apologized to Aether and Childe profusely, but they wouldn’t hear of it. They assured him it wasn’t his fault and didn’t ask for an explanation. He still hasn’t given them one. When will he be ready to give them one? He trusts them. Loves them. They would never hurt him.

There’s still a deep, exhausted hurt nestled and rotting in his chest that doesn’t want them to know.

He burrows into the blankets and backtracks. Aether, Childe, Zhongli. Sleeping arrangements. Friends. Better thoughts. Kinder thoughts. It’s easier on his headache and his heart.

He likes being here. He likes Zhongli, and Aether, and Kaeya and Childe. They’ve been more protective of him lately—outside of certain circumstances, they treat him like he really is “his own person”, like Zhongli said—but even their overprotectiveness has been reassuring, even if overbearing and overwhelming sometimes. He matters to them like they matter to him and it’s nice. Even if he doesn’t understand why they would want that for him, it’s nice.

It’s so nice.

Xiao digs his fists into his temples, and the throbbing pain eventually lulls him to sleep.

Chapter Text

The family’s spare key is in its usual location, buried in a box beneath the flower pot. Xiao digs it up and lets himself in.

Junjie is on him at once, pawing at his ankles and sniffing him up and down. Xiao coaxes him away from the door long enough to get it shut behind him. Junjie’s owners are good people—Xiao has housesat many times for them—but they don’t spend enough time at home to train him as they ought to.

“Hey, Junjie.” Once he knows the door is shut and there’s no chance of Junie running out into the street, he lets his guard down and kneels, scratching Junjie behind the ears. “Long time no see.” 

Junjie cuddles up to him and Xiao can’t help but crack a smile as he smooths out Junjie’s fur. For a husky with reasonably short hair, he sure does a good job tousling it around.

“You ready to eat?”

Junjie nuzzles into Xiao’s hands. 

“Alright, alright, let’s get breakfast going.” 

He stands. 

Darkness pierces the corners of his sight. He staggers backward, head swimming, hands scrambling for something to hold onto. He hits the door with a slam, knees bent, head spinning on its axis. 

It doesn’t last. The darkness passes, the world stops spinning and reality returns. Junjie nudges his knees, whining. Xiao’s hands are shaking, breath sticking to his lungs like they’ve been turned to honey. His ribs hurt. His skull explodes. But he can move again. 

He straightens, carefully, one hand on the door for balance. The other hand, he settles on Junjie’s head and pets him weakly.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he soothes, “I just stood up too fast.”

Junjie whines again and headbutts his shin. 

“Come on, I promised you breakfast. Don’t worry so much.”

Xiao ignores his headache, ignores Junjie’s continued whimpering and heads into the kitchen with minimal staggering. It’s just a headache. His mom has chronic migraines. This is probably normal. He’ll go to bed early.

Junjie won’t eat, though. Xiao sets the bowl down in front of him, runs through their usual, “Wait, wait—okay, good boy,” ritual, but Junjie doesn’t eat. Instead, he sits politely, like he always does before Xiao gives him the command, except instead of zeroing in on the food, his eyes are locked on Xiao’s.

“Why aren’t you eating? It’s okay,” Xiao says. Junjie continues to stare. “I told you, I’m fine.”

Junjie sneezes.

“This is ridiculous.” Xiao kneels, inching the food dish toward Junjie. “Junjie, look. I made you breakfast. You like breakfast, don’t you?”

Junjie trots forward, but only to boop Xiao on the forehead with his snout. He doesn’t touch his food. Weird.

“Okay.” Xiao stands (slowly—he learned his lesson) and moves toward the couch. “You do that, I have homework.”

He snags his backpack from the door and looks back at Junjie. Junjie is still staring at him. 

“... What?”

Junjie doesn’t move.

Weird.

Xiao tries to ignore it and flops down onto the couch, breathing a sigh of relief as some of the tension loosens from his head. Something metal scrapes the floor, and he cranes his neck to see Junjie finally digging into his breakfast. Xiao sighs again, harsher this time and mostly through his mouth. 

“That was weird,” he murmurs. He unzips his backpack, finding the Aspirin he’d packed as well as his astronomy textbooks. Should he tell the owners? It doesn’t seem to be serious behavior, just unusual. And Junjie hadn’t mis behaved at all, and he’s eating, now, so it isn’t that he’s sick. What’s the deal?

He’s overthinking because he’s tired and his head hurts. It’s probably nothing. He finds the chapter where he left off and combs through it.

He’s barely made it through one page turn when Junjie shoves his head into his lap. Xiao jumps.

“Um, hi.” Xiao pets Junjie’s head. “Did you finish eating?”

Junjie sneezes again. Xiao cranes his neck toward the kitchen again, and Junjie had pushed his food dish around just enough while he was eating that Xiao can see the bottom of it. Either Junjie ate really fast, or it took him a really freaking long time to get through two pages.

“What’s with you today?” Xiao asks, scratching around Junjie’s ear. “You aren’t acting like yourself.”

It clicks. Xiao doesn’t know what did it, but it clicks.

“Oh.” 

Junjie blinks up at him, head pillowed in Xiao’s lap, and Xiao swears his soul is being searched.

“I told you, I’m fine,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers through Junjie’s short fur. “My housemates worry too much already. I don’t need another parent.”

Junjie snorts. Xiao sighs.

His headache doesn’t go away. Aspirin, water, food, a power nap, pressure points—even that meditation podcast Childe swears by. Xiao tries everything, and the only thing he gets out of it is disappointment and a worse headache. It’s a good thing house watching is all he has on his plate today.

He prepares dinner for Junjie at 5:15pm, on schedule with the owner’s instructions. Junjie isn’t interested in eating, of course, but Xiao sets his food down for him anyway because it’s his job, and because Junjie is still a dog and will probably (hopefully) forget all about Xiao as soon as he walks out the door.

“Your owners will be back a little later tonight,” Xiao says, knelt down to scratch Junjie behind the ears. “Please eat by then, okay? They’ll think you aren’t feeling well if you don’t.”

Logically, Junjie doesn’t understand that. Sentimentally, though, Xiao lets himself believe that he can. He straightens to his feet slowly and collects his things from the living room—the homework he never finished, the aspirin that didn’t help. He stuffs it all in his backpack and slings it over a shoulder, headed for the door. Junjie stares at him from the kitchen, halfway between Xiao and his food dish.

Xiao smiles and waves. “Bye, Junjie. I’ll see you soon.”

Junjie trots over to nudge him one more time.

Xiao locks himself in the bathroom as soon as he’s back in the apartment. 

He got home in the perfect window today: Zhongli is at work, Childe is getting ready for work, Kaeya is napping from work, and Aether’s car wasn’t on the street, which means he’s out running errands. Xiao is able to get from the front door into the bathroom without interruption: now he just has to not throw up.

He isn’t even nauseous, it’s just his head pounding, pounding, pounding, pounding, and the pound has settled in his stomach and made him sick to it, and the dizziness is one spin away from the worst of his life. If his head would just stop hurting, if it would just stop, he would be fine. 

He digs his shoulder blades into the wall, pressing the water bottle into his stomach and trying to stave off the dizziness. He was just in the ER. What would his parents do if they got two insurance bills? Zhongli was right, it wouldn’t be enough for them to figure out where he is, but the thought of them possibly having an estimate is—

No, stop, stop, stop thinking, stop thinking. Xiao slams the heels of his hands against his temples. Stop. Stop. Stop. 

He takes a large gulp from the water bottle and scrunches into as small a ball as he can fit himself. 

Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up.

He doesn’t throw up, but the struggle leaves him so tired that it doesn’t feel like a victory.

Friday. Astronomy. He needs to be at the community college by 9:00am. 

His head. Hurts.

But he’s been fever-free for nearly forty eight hours. He hasn’t thrown up in longer than that. The headache is just leftovers, and he’s always been resistant to pain medicine. It’s not that hard to believe. 

“Xiao?”

He nearly jumps out of his skin. Zhongli is on the couch, reading a book with a mug of tea cozied into one hand. He’s wearing his usual cardigan, but coupled with sweatpants, which is less usual for him on work mornings. 

With practiced swiftness, Xiao recovers. “Zhongli.” He forces his face to smooth out like he wasn’t just about to grab a granola bar and run. “I thought you were at work?”

“Mm, no,” Zhongli takes a sip of tea before settling the mug on the coffee table, “they moved me to an evening shift today. There’s a new intern in this morning.”

“Oh, cool.” 

“Would you like a ride to the campus?”

He would rather walk. He enjoys the time to himself, and he enjoys nature along the way—rain or shine or otherwise. But, his head...

“Actually, yeah. If you don’t mind. I’d appreciate it.”

Zhongli finally looks up at him. “... Really.”

Shit.

“Is it so unusual to want a ride every now and then?” Xiao tries to make it extra casual by opening a cabinet and grabbing a pack of instant oatmeal. “You worry too much.”

“Given how sick you were, I believe I worry a proper amount,” Zhongli says. Xiao clenches his teeth and it drives the pounding forward. “Your teachers and classmates would understand if you needed more time.”

Xiao closes the cabinet too hard. “I don’t need more time,” he snaps. “Okay? I don’t.” 

Zhongli turns the page. “Alright.” 

“... Sorry.”

“No, I understand,” Zhongli says. “I have been rather… overbearing lately, even if only because I care for you. I apologize if I’ve overstepped.”

“No, you haven’t overstepped, I’m just—I’m just being difficult. Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, but, since I know it will make you feel better, I do forgive you.”

“Thanks.”

“Just let me know when you’re ready to go.”

Xiao nods. His appetite is even farther south than before, but it would draw more attention to him if he left the kitchen without eating. He makes the instant oatmeal.

The ride there is uneventful. Xiao likes to be at least ten minutes early, but today, after a desperation to get out of the apartment before his facade cracked, he winds up getting there an entire thirty minutes ahead of schedule.

“I’m meeting up with a friend before class,” is what he tells Zhongli. “We’re going to go over homework from Monday.”

It’s a lie, but Zhongli trusts him, and Xiao doesn’t know if he’ll be able to look him in the eye for the rest of the day.

Xiao shrugs his backpack further over his shoulders and hoists himself on top of the brick wall while he waits. It’s a day just like yesterday: warm, bright, breezy. The community college campus isn’t anything special, but the wind carries maple leaves across the lawn, and the benches are well-worn with a brick patio and nameplates of memories. Not his memories, but, there’s an odd nostalgia about it all he can’t put his finger on.

“Xiao? You’re earlier than usual.”

Xingqiu stops before him, arms filled with books and shoulders laden with the usual navy trench coat, despite the warmth. Why he doesn’t take the L and get a damn book bag already is beyond Xiao.

“You’re always here early,” Xiao says. “You’ve got no right to bag on me for it.”

“Ah, but see, I’m always early,” Xingqiu says, smiling his confidence through it. “I’ve never passed you on the way in before. What’s the occasion?”

“I wanted a ride, so one of my roommates dropped me off on his way to work,” Xiao says. Another lie, but he’s good at those and getting better. He ignores the guilt again, too. “It’s not that deep.”

Xingqiu hops up onto the wall beside him. “Things are never shallow with you, though,” he says. “You seem tense.”

“Of course I’m tense,” Xiao says, “I’m being interrogated. And insulted. How do you still have friends?”

“Nobody in our friend group should still have friends,” says Xingqiu. “That’s why we’re still friends.”

“Except Venti.”

“Venti could make friends with a home invader, he doesn’t count.”

Xiao snorts.

Just as Xiao and his housemates hold the “three fundamental truths of this apartment” (or whatever nonsense Childe called it; Xiao still doesn’t know what the fundamental truths actually are and doesn’t care to ask), there are certain fundamental truths within Xiao’s circle of friends. Venti is the bubbly extrovert who could and would suplex a bitch. Xingqiu is the book geek with a fashion sense that shouldn’t work but does. Xiao is… … . And—

“Oh, Razor! Over here!” 

Xiao grits his teeth at the sparkles of pain in his skull as Xingqiu leaves the books in his lap to wave. Across the courtyard, Razor perks up and sprints toward them.

Ah, Razor. The fundamental truth about Razor’s place in their friend group is that they wouldn’t hesitate to kill for him.

“It’s good to see you,” Xingqiu says. “How have you been?”

Razor hoists his backpack further over his shoulders and nods. “Good,” Razor signs widely. “I don’t think I got the notes down just right, though.”

“Oh, that’s alright!” Xingqiu says. “I always take extensive notes, and you wouldn’t be the only person who’s asked to use them.”

“Hi, Razor,” Xiao says. He keeps his voice down enough to not further irritate the pain Xingqiu’s shout already disturbed. “You can borrow my notes, too, if you want more references.”

Razor is already shaking his head. “Thank you, but no,” he says. “I want my conclusions to reflect my own work. But thank you.”

“I can respect that,” Xingqiu says. “I’d feel the same way.”

Xiao, who still needs to get a copy of notes from Venti before Business Management next Monday, doesn’t say anything.

Razor flutters a hand at him. Xiao leans forward. “I’m watching.”

“Are you feeling better?” Razor asks, his movements thick. “Venti said you were sick.”

Xingqiu turns sharply. “You’ve been sick?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Xiao says. “Venti probably exaggerated. I feel fine.”

Razor doesn’t break eye contact.

“... But I do appreciate the concern,” Xiao says. Then, signing alongside his voice, “Thank you.” 

He feels silly right afterwards—Razor is mute, not deaf—but Razor lights up, and the tension drains from Xiao’s shoulders. 

“Well, as long as you’re feeling better I have no complaints,” Xingqiu says. “You could have said something sooner. We would have brought you snacks.”

“And company,” Razor adds.

“Xiao!”

Xingqiu doesn’t even have to turn. “Oh, dear.”

Venti glomps Xiao straight off the wall. And—and Xiao doesn’t know how he does it. He never does and he never will—and Venti manages to twist his feet underneath them in time to catch them before the ground does. That should probably be another fundamental truth of Venti: physics don’t even bother. 

“You’re back!” Venti chirps, squeezing him tight. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better, Business Management was so boring without you there.”

“That’s great, Venti. You can put me down now.”

Venti sets him down and sizes him up in the same breath. He frowns. “You still don’t look like yourself,” he says, reaching out. He brushes Xiao’s hair out of his face and Xiao fights the urge to flinch away. “Is something else wrong?”

“No,” Xiao says, “I’m just, tired. You know how it is.”

Venti doesn’t believe him. Xiao swats his hand away.

“Seriously, stop.”

“Okay, okay,” Venti huffs, hands on his hips. “Jeez, I always forget how grumpy you can be. Oh! Razor!” They hug while Xiao rolls his eyes, and then Venti and Xingqiu run through their fourteen-step handshake. It’s ridiculous, but it all screams Venti: Venti, their local band-kid-theatre-kid hybrid, who has never actually been involved in either band nor theatre, with a sporty, aerodynamic fashion sense of loose-fitted pastel cropped hoodies and leggings. Venti is one of Xiao’s favorite people (which says a lot, as he is notorious for liking very few). 

“It’s good to see you back and at ‘em,” Venti says, focused on Xiao again. His voice reeks with enthusiasm, but the well-masked worry in his eyes contradicts it. “Let me know if you need those Business Management notes!”

“I will.”

“Oh, there’s Chongyun’s car!” Venti, ever the easily distracted and ready for a subject change, whips around and waves his arms over his head. “Hey, Chongyun!” 

“He can’t hear you,” Razor says.

“But he can see me!” Venti keeps waving. Xiao dips his head into his phone, scrolling mindlessly through old messages. “Chongyun!” 

Xiao swears Chongyun deflates. He and Chongyun aren’t dissimilar in temperament. Neither of them are particularly keen on people outside a specific, certain few. Chongyun also isn’t a morning person and takes coffee like bodybuilders take protein. 

“What are you all doing here?” Chonyun’s voice barely lilts with the question. He doesn’t even have his bookbag on him, just a thermos and a frown. “We still have twenty minutes until class, don’t we?”

“Ain’t that just the darndest thing?” Venti shrugs with his whole heart and shakes his head. “It would seem we’re all a little off our rockers.”

Xiao kneads his temples. “Please never use that term unironically again.”

“Why not? It’s a good term!”

“I’m meeting with a teacher,” Chongyun says, “but I’ll see you all at lunch. Don’t be late to class.”

They wave him off. Xiao stops digging into his temples, but the lack of pressure brings more attention to the pain. When was the last time he took painkillers? It should be almost time for another dose.

“We should get going, too, Xiao,” Venti says. “We’ll be late if we don’t get a move on, and you know how Mr. Qiao can be.” Then, to Xingqiu and Razor, because he’s Venti, and Venti is nothing if not a planner, “We’ll catch up with you guys for lunch.”

Xingqiu and Razor agree. Xiao slips off the wall, his backpack a heavier weight on his already heavy shoulders, and follows Venti across the courtyard and into the building.

The five of them aren’t all in the same classes, but there is a decent amount of overlap. The rest is just friends of friends. Xingqiu is in Business Management with Xiao and Venti, and it’s through him that they met Chongyun. Then Chongyun introduced them to Razor after befriending him in a different class. The only people in the group who have both their weekly classes together are Xiao and Venti: Business Management on Mondays and astronomy on Fridays.

Of the classes Xiao could endure with what he is now comfortable calling a migraine, he would pick astronomy. Business Management is the field he’s actually interested in; astronomy is the field he has secondhand interest in through Venti. And he doesn’t dislike astronomy—he likes it a great deal—but, at least for now, it isn’t a career he’s pursuing and more an interest he’s allowing himself indulgence while he’s still in community college. 

Besides, of the motivations he could have, doing it for a friend isn’t an entirely bad one. There are worse reasons. And it gives him more time with Venti, which may or may not be a bigger motivation than the first.

Anyway, astronomy. Enjoyable. Low-stress. Sometimes their teacher even cuts the lights and Xiao prays today is one of those days.

It goes fine, ultimately. They’re working with a telescope. Telescopes are a lot more complicated than they have any right to, but Venti catches on like a moth to flame, so Xiao catches on, too. He tries taking notes, but words come in fleeting waves and he can never find the word he wants to write, and after a completely ineligible page of half-finished thoughts and poorly articulated concepts, Xiao gives up trying. As long as it looks like he’s taking notes, the people around him will be none the wiser. It’s fine.

Mr. Qiao is talking again—about those galaxy… things, Xiao can’t remember the word for it even though he’s usually good at memorizing terms and figures, but they’re the things Venti had texted him excitedly about days before, when asking if Xiao would be at class. Xiao tries to focus. For Venti, he tries to focus. But his head hurts, Mr. Qiao’s words flow together like paint bleeding through a bandana, and Xiao retains nothing.

“Xiao? We can go.”

Xiao jumps. Class is over. Mr. Qiao is gone, the rest of the class is shuffling out and Venti is by his side, bag already slung over his shoulder. He’s grabbed Xiao’s bag, too.

“Oh.” Xiao blinks down at his hands. They don’t look like his, and it doesn’t help that they’re blurry. “I didn’t hear the bell. Sorry.”

Venti’s smile is pinched. “Are you sure you’re doing okay?”

“I—” It wouldn’t be hard to lie. It feels like lying is the only thing that isn’t hard to do today. But there’s a disarming sincerity in Venti’s eyes that Xiao doesn’t want to betray. He sighs. “I’m tired. I think I’m still dehydrated—my head’s been bugging me all week.”

Venti tucks Xiao’s hair out of the way. Xiao still isn’t used to Venti’s lack of personal space, but he doesn’t feel like opposing it this time. “I have ibuprofen, if you haven’t already taken something,” Venti says. “Naproxen and tylenol, too. Different floats.” 

Xiao signs. “Why do you have so many painkillers?”

“Simple: I have a lot of friends who don’t take care of themselves,” Venti says. He’s still smiling, but it’s only half a joke. “And sometimes my wrists hurt from overuse—musician’s curse and all that, so it’s not like I never use any of it myself.”

“I brought my own painkillers,” Xiao says, “but, thanks.”

Venti’s hand drops back to his side. “Do you still want to meet up with the others? I’m sure Chongyun wouldn’t mind driving you home.”

A twinge of frustration spikes through Xiao’s chest—he feels like he’s had this conversation a hundred times—but he forces himself to breathe through it. It’s not like Venti is wrong to be worried.

“I’ll be fine.” Maybe not a lie this time. He will be fine. “But, thanks.”

“Sure! I’ll just overcompensate so you don’t have to engage in the conversation.”

“Thanks.”

Venti salutes with a wider grin, and Xiao can only think about how much he loves him. 

“Do you wanna go over the telescopes later on this week? Or do you think you picked up enough from the lesson?”

Xiao didn’t pick up anything from the lesson. “I don’t… want to impose.”

“Oh, no, I love this stuff! Besides, if I’m offering, then you can’t impose, right? I like having you around.”

“That’s nice.”

“So?”

Xiao sighs. “Does tonight work for you?”

“Tonight? Are you sure that’ll give you enough time to rest?”

“I’ll be fine,” Xiao says. “I’d rather go over the material while it’s still fresh. We can go over your notes from Monday, too.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

“Positive.”

“Then it’s a date! I’ll just be homeworking with the books and homewrecking with the violin, so you can come over anytime tonight!” 

Xiao really, really loves Venti.

“Sounds good.”

Lunch goes just fine. Xingqiu seems to be the only one of their group to catch on, but even then he doesn’t say anything, and he must not notice anything monumental enough to bring up with Xiao privately (or even through their group chat). Venti is so good at reigning in and redirecting the conversation that Xiao doesn’t have to engage at all, and then when it’s over, Xiao gives Aether a call and gets a ride back home.

“Did you have a good day back?” Aether asks when he slides into the car. Xiao nods and shuts the door behind him. “... Best day of your life, then, right?”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Aether says, pulling out. “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just teasing you. And I won’t force you to tell me anything.”

Xiao waits for an exception—some sort of but— but it doesn’t come. Aether takes them back to the apartment safely and Xiao makes a beeline for his and Zhongli’s room. Zhongli is gone; Childe is gone; Kaeya is sleeping off his shift. He makes it there without hassle, guzzles half a plastic water bottle and falls asleep the moment he’s lying down.

“You made it!”

Venti looks really cute with French braids. He looks really cute in general; Xiao is just tired and emotionally compromised and it’s making him notice more than usual.

When it came time to head out again, he actually felt a little better. Not marginally so, but enough that it was worth taking notice of and the unease in his chest cleared up. Exhaustion, stress and dehydration: the holy trinity of headache triggers and triple-threat from hell. Come tomorrow, it’ll be like it never happened at all. 

“How’re you feeling? Is your headache better?”

“It is,” Xiao says. “Thank you.”

He should say something weightier than that. Venti has already gone out of his way for him in all of this, from taking notes Monday to picking up his slack today, and then now, opening up the apartment so Xiao can catch up. He wants—no, needs Venti to understand how much this means to him. 

So naturally he says, “Orange isn’t your color.”

His self-esteem uppercuts him, points and laughs, then dies.

“Well, I couldn’t find another hairtie!” Venti says, swinging out of the doorframe to let Xiao in. The single orange ribbon keeping a braid together swings around after him. “Besides, as far as I’m concerned, all colors are my colors. What’s the use of having so many if you aren’t allowed to enjoy them all?”

Xiao shuts the door and tugs off his shoes. “You can do whatever you want, Venti.”

Venti just, laughs. “I’m gonna make coffee, but I’ve already got the telescope set up. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

It’s already 9pm. “Later, when, exactly?”

Venti shrugs and leaves in the direction of the kitchen. Xiao hikes up his backpack and follows him in.

Venti’s apartment is… interesting. He has two roommates—Albedo and Bennett, neither of whom Xiao has met or heard very much about outside here-and-there remarks about their profession or how sure Venti is they’re annoyed with his music. It doesn’t look lived in at all, furnished as though for inspection with tidy couches, a simple, coherent color pallet and bare wooden floors. Apparently that’s Albedo’s doing—something to do with OCD and stress cleaning. Xiao can’t relate to OCD personally, but there were… exceptions that had to be made for him, when Zhongli first took him off the streets. He understands that much. Venti’s bedroom, on the other hand, is a completely different story, and knowing what he knows about Bennett, Xiao is willing to bet the same can be said of his. 

“How much do you know about meteorology, Xiao?”

Xiao inhales through his nose. “Venti.”

“I’m not switching minors again! I’ve just been thinking a lot.”

“That usually means you want to switch minors again.”

Pounding footsteps, then Venti whips around the doorframe, still holding the carafe. “I just think wind is neat.”

“You think stars are neat, too. That’s why we’re in astronomy together. That’s why I’m here.”

“Well, my parents’ve already decided I’m gonna have a career in Business Management,” Venti says, “so does the minor really matter?”

Xiao’s head hurts too much for this. “I’m not the right person to ask.”

“If I switched into a physics course, it’d cover both bases—”

“If you want to talk to a guidance counselor, I’ll help you schedule it. I’ll even go with you. But I’m not the right person to ask.”

“Meh.” Venti spins his way out of the room. “Just you wait and see, someday I’m gonna be the CEO of this big-name-company and have a million side-careers under my belt. Just you wait!”

Xiao doesn’t doubt it. He does hope—either someday, or now and just buried deep deep down—that Venti knows his career is his own choice, whether or not his parents accept it. There’s so much to Venti, from his music to his stupid hair ribbons, to his love of nature and learning and the stars, to the callouses on his fingertips and the sincerity with which he speaks. The thought of Venti in his parents’ shoes, living his parents’ choices and living the life they wish they had—a life that they could take advantage of—is not a thought Xiao can sit with for very long without wanting to punch a wall. Venti can do anything he sets his mind to, of that Xiao has no doubt; but the things he sets his heart to are few and precious, and Xiao hates the thought of that being lost to a life he isn’t happy in.

“Hey.” Venti presses a mug of black coffee between his hands. Xiao blinks into it. “Don’t worry about me so much. I’m okay.”

How long has it been? Time hasn’t been flowing on the right axis lately. Xiao wills himself out of it. “What makes you think I’m worried about you?”

“You have this face.” Venti sits beside him on the couch (couch, couch, when had Xiao sat down?) with his own cup of coffee, trying to steam despite the ice cubes Venti ruined it with. “This face you only make when you’re questioning my life choices.”

“I’m not questioning your life choices,” Xiao says. “I just hope when it comes time for you to actually make them, you make them for you.”

Ah.

He didn’t mean to say that, either.

“Wait, no, I trust your choices,” Xiao says hurriedly, “I’m not trying to—you can obviously choose for yourself—”

Venti has the audacity to laugh. “No, no, you don’t need to second guess yourself,” he says. “Thank you, Xiao. I won’t rush into things.”

Xiao’s shoulders slacken. The pounding in his head kicks up again. “Okay.”

Venti beams. “Do you wanna start with business or telescope?”

Venti has set up the telescope on the balcony. Two stories up, bustling street down below. It’s not a great place to look for stars, but they don’t have many options and “being picky” isn’t one of them. Their lives have never operated in the “perfect” or even in the “optimal,” just the “enough.” And—go figure—it lives up to that.

It’s a “just enough” sort of telescope, too. Xiao kind of wants to apologize to it.

“—elliptical,” Venti says. Was saying. Has been saying. Shit. “So! All we have to do is—”

“Wait—” Xiao can’t even remember when Venti started talking, gods, what is with him today? “I was zoning out again, can you start over?”

Venti frowns. “Sure. Is something wrong? You look shaken.”

He is shaken. Shaken is a kind way of putting it. He doesn’t remember sitting at the couch, he doesn’t remember asking Aether to give him a ride, he doesn’t remember any of the conversations his friends had over lunch. He doesn’t even remember drinking coffee, even though he can taste it in the back of his mouth. He wants to blame it on the headache, but that answer isn’t enough anymore.

Venti doesn’t need to know that. Venti doesn’t even know he was in the ER, and god knows Xiao doesn’t have the capacity for that conversation. 

“Yeah, no, everything’s fine.” Xiao presses his hands into his eyes, frustration stirring the dormant migraine in his temples. Not again, not now. “You can keep going, I’m listening now.”

Venti doesn’t look away. His eyes are bright, his lips are tight, his braids are loose and lopsided. It’s a critical staredown, one Xiao meets with faked resolve and Venti fails first.

“If you say you’re fine,” Venti says, adjusting the telescope, “I trust you.”

Venti trusts him, in spite of not believing him, and Xiao wants to run.

“Here!” Like the tension was never there, Venti springs back from the telescope and grins at him. “You haven’t been able to look yet, have you? Go ahead and take a look!”

Xiao pummels through the guilt in record time. “Um… you’re going to have to tell me what to look for.”

“Constellations.” Venti taps him on the shoulder, and Xiao withdraws long enough to get a notebook shoved in his face. “Particularly this one. Alatus Nemeseos. It’s only visible at certain times during the year; Mr. Qiao thought it’d be a fun one to spot while we have the chance.”

Other than a pencil-drawn diagram of the constellation, the notes don’t make much sense. That probably isn’t Venti’s fault; nothing looks or feels the way it should. Xiao should’ve opted for water instead of coffee. “So…?”

“So, go find it!” Venti gives him a tiny shove between the shoulders. “Don’t take my word for it. Personal experience is worth a thousand descriptive words, anyway. Self-discovery!”

Xiao is too tired to dig for flaws in that logic, so he does take Venti’s word for it, leaning in and peering through the eyepiece. 

For someone studying astronomy, he doesn’t stop to consider the stars often enough. This view is a good reminder of why he stuck with astronomy in the first place.

It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but the night sky hits him every time as though it were the first time. He forgets what he’s supposed to be looking for at first, and even his headache moves to the backburner long enough for him to breathe in the starry expanse. He loves it. He wouldn’t base his career off of it, but he really does love it.

“I know, right?” Venti breathes, his voice entirely too far away. “I still think it’s hard to believe that stuff is really out there… the world we live in is an amazing place, isn’t it?”

Xiao’s ears buzz. The novelty of the view has worn off, but the giddiness in his chest hasn’t. Actually—he isn’t sure if it’s actually giddiness in his chest. What’s in his chest? It doesn’t feel wrong, but it doesn’t feel right either. “Yeah.”

Is— Is that his voice? It doesn’t sound like his voice.

“Xiao?” It must not have sounded like his voice to Venti, either, because he’s worried again. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Xiao says. The world is tipping. Fuzzy. “I—I think the adrenaline is getting to me. I’m fine.”

“Adrenaline?” Shock. Xiao doesn’t often see Venti shocked. Venti isn’t often shocked.  “We study these things all the time, are you really that—Xiao!”

He’s weightless, then too heavy, and then he hits the ground. 

Xiao has never drowned before. But he imagines it would go something like this.

The surrounding air pulses and bursts, stars speckling his sight as darkness thuds into the corners, throbbing with a heartbeat he hears more than feels. There’s a tightness in his chest, and a deep gravity like he’s being drawn deeper and deeper underwater, choking on the air he can’t breathe anyway. 

It’s slow at first. His skin is charred with oil boiling just below, but the chains around his lungs begin to loosen, and he gasps in cool air. His pulse is so heavy it hurts, but eventually the stars begin to fade, too. With its fading out, reality begins to fade in.

Venti’s eyes are very pretty. And very scared. 

“H-Hold on, he just woke up—Xiao, Xiao, oh my god.” Venti’s hand lands on his cheek, gentle and trembling. The other is clutching a phone to his ear. “Oh my god, Xiao, can you hear me?”

“Y…” His tongue is too thick for his mouth. Everything beyond Venti’s face is dark and fuzzy and hurts. “I can hear you.”

What's wrong with his voice? It doesn't sound like him and it tastes like metal.

“Okay.” Venti’s eyes are red. It doesn’t suit him. It isn’t right. “Okay, st-stay with me, stay with me, I’ve got you—y-yes, he’s responding, but he’s slurring and I don’t think he knows where he is.”

That’s ridiculous, of course he knows where he is, they’re—

Wait.

Shit, wait.

No, no, where in the hell—

“V-Venti—”

“N-No, don’t freak out, you’re okay.” Venti’s hand trembles around Xiao’s, but his grip is tight. “Don’t freak out.”

“B-But I don’t kn—I don’t know where—“

“You’re with me, okay? That’s where you are. You just need to stay with me, okay? Xiao?”

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts—

“Xiao, no, no, look at me. You can see me, can’t you?”

Venti is all he sees. Xiao nods. 

“Good, okay, keep looking at me. H-Here, look, look.” He presses the phone between his cheek and shoulder, whipping the tie from a braid and loosening it to the wind. “I can teach you how to French braid, you still think it’s cool, don’t you?”

There’s darkness clawing the edge of Xiao’s sight. It scares him. Venti is fighting it and Xiao clutches at his hand and nods.

“Okay. Okay! Okay—y-yeah," into the phone, who is he talking to? "I’m going to keep him awake—Xiao? Xiao, no, no, look at me. Look at me.”

Xiao had closed his eyes. He doesn’t remember closing his eyes. He didn’t choose to close his eyes. A tightness closes in on his chest and finds his throat right after—clenching, breathless, squeezing. He scrambles for purchase and finds Venti’s other hand.

“I-I don’t know why I closed my eyes.” His voice isn’t his. Nothing feels like his, not even Venti’s hands feel like something to hold on to. “I didn’t mean to close my eyes, i-it’s getting dark—“

Venti’s mouth moves. Xiao doesn’t hear anything.

Brrrz, brrrz.

So much for taking an afternoon nap. Literally who is trying to reach him and why the hell are they doing it now? Also why the hell didn’t he put his phone on “do not disturb”? He didn’t want to be disturbed. Now he’s awake, and he didn’t want to be awake either. Damn it all.

Kaeya feels around the side table, knocking around his glasses, melatonin, two pens and a pencil before his fingers close around his phone. As if working fast food isn’t bad enough, now he has to pick up everything off the floor the next time he’s on his feet.

He squints at his phone. He’d thought it was just a text, but apparently someone had tried to call him. Had he missed the other vibrations? Why’d he have to only sleep through a few of them? Stupid.

He scrubs his eye, and his vision clears.

He’d missed a call from Xiao. 

Before he knows what to do with that, Xiao calls him again. Kaeya answers.

“Hi, yeah?" He props himself up on an elbow, rubbing at his eye. You never call me.”

“This isn’t Xiao,” comes a voice Kaeya doesn’t recognize. Whoever they are, it sounds like they’ve been crying. Maybe they’re still crying. “I-I’m—” 

“Where’s Xiao?” Kaeya’s heart pounds up his throat. “Why do you have his phone?”

“I-I’m a friend of Xiao’s, Venti, I don’t know if he’s ever mentioned me? But we’re, we're in the same classes, at the community college. We were—h-he had a seizure—”

Kaeya’s heart had been pounding. It’s not doing anything anymore.

“What?”

Chapter Text

“This is Kaeya,” Zhongli introduced while gesturing at him, and Kaeya channeled every ounce of willpower into not snapping to attention. Either he was more on edge than he realized, or Zhongli would make a good lawyer. “I have offered him the couch until he can find somewhere to live.”

Kaeya grinned and snapped a finger gun at Childe and Aether out of panic.

“I’m sorry for the intrusion,” he said, “but I’ve got a job and I can pay rent.”

It was all he had to give.

Childe, Aether, Zhongli. His new roommates.

He’d known them for ten minutes and he had no idea what he was doing.

He hit it off with Childe first. Their personalities were most similar, and he was the sort of guy that wasn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with. Aether was more sarcastic and harder to read, but still easy to talk to. Zhongli, who often wasn’t easy to talk to and took things too literally (Zhongli’s face-value, Aether’s sarcasm: fight), seemed way too proper and put-together for Kaeya to get close to until Kaeya realized how much of a guise that proper, put-togetherness was, and that Zhongli was a mess, too, just in different ways. 

“Have you told him about Xiao yet?”

“I will.”

“Uh, you should probably step on it. Like, do the conversational equivalent of flooring it.”

“That is a terrible idea.”

“No it’s not. Tell him before you don’t have a choice.”

Kaeya shouldn’t have heard that conversation, so he spent the rest of the day pretending he hadn’t. It ended up working out for him—hardly an hour had passed, and then Zhongli, Aether and Childe sat him at the couch with coffee and no small amount of pressure. It was probably nothing—maybe a pet or something the landlord didn’t permit but they kept anyway. Maybe they were the mafia. Whichever.

“We have a fourth roommate,” Zhongli said. “His name is Xiao.”

Okay, so probably not the mafia. That was good.

“Another roommate?” Kaeya was about to frown, but caught himself and shrugged animatedly instead. “Well, that’s fine, of course! Is he here? I would like to meet him, if just to say thank you—”

“You can’t meet him yet,” Aether said. “That’s what we need to talk about.”

Kaeya’s teeth clamped shut. What? “And, by that, you mean…?”

Maybe a ghost. He couldn’t decide if that was more or less of a stretch from the mafia.

Childe sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding Kaeya’s eyes. “It’s hard to say without giving you the wrong idea,” Childe said. “He’s just been through a lot. He’s fine around Zhongli, but still, me and Aether can’t get too close before his mind takes him back to whatever hell he escaped from.”

“He needs time,” Zhongli said, calmly, but with weight like even the concept of the words was too heavy to voice. “We’re trying to let him take as much of it as he needs, and we aren’t going to put him through anything beyond what he chooses.”

“Oh.” There was a lot to process, but Kaeya decided to do most of the processing tonight while pretending to sleep. “That’s… yeah, of course. I’ll do whatever you say.”

“The best thing you can do for him is give him space,” Zhongli said. “Even the concept of being safe is not something he’s had before. I cannot imagine how overwhelming all of this has been for him.”

Kaeya couldn’t imagine it, either.

“I’ll give him space,” Kaeya swore. “And, keep me posted if there’s anything else I can do along the way.”

A week later, the arrangement went from temporary to semi-permanent. Another day and many conversations later, it turned permanent. Kaeya didn’t have a family to go home to, his landlord was demanding more than he could pay, and Zhongli, Childe, Aether and Xiao (who he still hadn’t met) were letting him stay. It was fine. Optimal, even. He just wished he had some way to repay them.

“You’re sure Xiao is fine with it,” Kaeya said, washing dishes while Childe dried and put away. “I would hate to stay if me being here made him uncomfortable.”

“It’s not your fault,” Childe assured, but Kaeya wasn’t convinced by that alone, and Childe could tell. “Seriously, it’s nothing you’ve done. Family baggage. But yeah, Zhongli talked to him and he said he doesn’t care, so you’re in the clear.”

Kaeya sighed. “I suppose it’s fine if he’s indifferent, but I’d feel better knowing he was okay with it. This is his home before it’s mine.”

“I get it, but trust me when I say he’d tell Zhongli if he wasn’t okay with it.”

Kaeya still wasn’t completely reassured, but Childe wasn’t an easy person to have a genuine argument with. Kaeya refocused on the dishes. “And, as for yourself and Aether—”

“Oh my god,” Aether said from the other room, “yes, we’re fine with it. Stop asking.”

Kaeya turned to Childe, but all Childe did was shrug. “What he said.” Then, with a thumbs-up, “Welcome to the family! It’s forever.”

In a tone like he’s been cursed with it, Aether echoes, “And ever.”

Kaeya laughed to hide the bitterness bubbling in his chest. He tried the whole ‘family is forever’ spiel, once. Didn’t work. But, he liked these people and didn’t hate the thought of calling them roommates, and it wasn’t like he’d get attached. It was fine.

Kaeya was ten minutes late, heels raw from yanking on his shoes, his coworker’s contact pulled up just in case he couldn’t leg it in time. He hated his job but he hated calling in late if he was going to have one and now that he was rooming with other people it actually mattered. 

“Shitshitshitshitshit—”

He trampled into the kitchen and met the golden eyes of a teenager, cross-legged on the kitchen counter eating Top Ramen.

Kaeya skidded to a halt while his brain continued to whir. Who the h-

It dawned on him.

This must be Xiao.

Xiao just turned eighteen a couple months ago, right before he started living with them (according to Zhongli), but he could easily pass as years younger than that—seventeen for sure, maybe sixteen, rarely but possibly fifteen. His hair was messy, mishmashed shades of teal over black with bits of it pinned back into a bun while the rest hung in his face. His eyes were the first thing Kaeya noticed, but he caught them again. Golden, challenging. With something unsure and afraid beneath it. 

(Kaeya started noticing the scars and bruises after that and strangled his thoughts before they started.) 

“Oh, hi!” Kaeya said to break the ice. Judging by Xiao’s moot reaction and continued stare, the ice brought reinforcements. “You must be Xiao. Sorry, we haven’t met yet. It’s Kaeya.”

“Xiao,” Xiao said.

There were better ways to go about it, but Kaeya never had roommates before (and it didn’t help that he had at least twenty questions about Xiao and the circumstances involving… everything about him, actually). He was out of his depth.

But, he was going to be a good roommate. He was going to do right by these people. He was going to do the right thing by someone for once in his life.

“It’s nice to put a face to the name,” Kaeya said. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

Xiao blinked. There was nothing, no discernable reaction or emotion. Kaeya was given no help in reading what Xiao thought about Kaeya ‘getting to know him better.’ 

“I look forward to getting to know you, too,” Xiao said, surprising him. “But if you’re late, you should hurry.”

It was so matter-of-fact (and true) that it didn’t even feel like a jab. Kaeya set off feeling like, all things considered and by his standards, it’d gone pretty okay

It’s weird.

Kaeya has never been a sentimental person. Even nostalgia has a sour ring to it. But he tears through the ER doors like a runner through tape, ignoring the receptionist’s disapproving look, and memories and Xiao are all he can think about.

Later that day he met Xiao in the kitchen, he learned from Zhongli that that was the longest time Xiao had been out of his room since living with them. Kaeya can’t imagine it, because Xiao is out of his and Zhongli’s room all the time now, eating on the counter and telling Kaeya to stop being late for work. There’s still a lot Kaeya doesn’t know about Xiao’s past, but now that he’s begun to know Xiao, he doesn’t care about those questions anymore. The only thing he cares about is Xiao.

Xiao.

He reaches reception before the ER doors close.

“Hi—” Kaeya starts, bands at his throat. He’s never done this before, shit, shit, what does he say? What does he say that won’t get him kicked out? “Hi, um, I-I got a call from my roommate’s friend, about—about Xiao? Xiao Liu? He’s nineteen, his friend said he had a seizure and the ambulance took them here—”

“Alright, alright. Hang tight.” The receptionist’s hands skirt across the keyboard. The clacking drills into Kaeya’s head. “Xiao Liu? Can you spell that?”

“Y—Yeah—” He’s never had to spell Xiao’s surname before, shit— “X-I-A-O, and—I, I think his last name is spelled L-I-U?” 

He prays it’s right. 

“He’s nineteen, you said? When’s his birthday?”

“April seventeenth.” Thank god, he knows that by heart. “Is he here? Is he okay?”

“Just a minute, dear.”

“Okay.” Is it normal for things to take this long? Why is it taking so long? If Xiao is okay then it shouldn’t be taking this—

“What is your name?”

“My name?”

“Yes, please.”

“It’s, Kaeya—Kaeya Alberich.” And then he spells it out, surprised by how easily it comes. At least he can still be the fucking spellingbee champion. “What do you need my name for?”

“Kaeya Alberich…” The receptionist scrolls, eyes teetering to and fro across her screen. “Yes, I do have you listed here as an emergency contact. If you’ll have a seat, a doctor will call you back shortly.”

Oh. That’s what she needed his name for. He’d forgotten protocol is a thing that exists, but, when the shit did he get put as one of Xiao’s emergency contacts? How did—

No, it doesn’t matter. Not now. He thanks the receptionist and takes the first chair he sees. 

It’s not that it doesn’t feel real. The world around him feels intentionally real—like it’s digging elbows into his ribs to make sure he looks, sees and doesn’t stop. But it can’t be real. The white lights are real, the doctors are real—but he tries to picture Xiao having a seizure, being loaded into an ambulance, being afraid, and that’s the part that can’t be real.

It can’t—

“Liu, Xiao?”

Kaeya zips to his feet and flanks the nurse down a long white hallway. Curtained rooms. Rooms with doors. Rooms with lots of light and noise, rooms with noise but no light, rooms with light but no noise. Kaeya wants answers but can’t fathom what questions he should be asking. Sure, there was that accident when he was kid—it’s why he keeps his right eye covered—but he was so young, and at the time he’d had his family to walk through all the technical medical jargon and frantic phone calls and running red lights on the way to the ER. Now he’s that for Xiao and he doesn’t know what to do.

Too soon and not soon enough, the nurse turns a corner and reaches for the door.

It… doesn’t look like Xiao.

It is Xiao, but he isn’t himself. Wires and tubes, lines on screens, loud machines, hand clasped between two of someone else’s. Xiao blinks his way into Kaeya’s gaze, confusion slipping down into relief, then sliding further into a twisted look like he’s about to cry.

Kaeya has never seen Xiao cry before.

“Kaeya,” Xiao croaks, and Kaeya realizes he hasn't moved. 

“Hey.” Kaeya drags over the doctor’s rolling chair and sits himself down, barely hesitating to settle a hand on Xiao’s forearm. There’s someone else at Xiao’s side holding his hand—a boy, probably about Xiao’s age, half of his hair French braided and the other half free and tangled. Must be Venti. “You doing okay?”

“Fine,” Xiao says, too fast. “I don’t know what’s going on, Venti won’t tell me anything.”

“It’s because I don’t know anything,” Venti chides, and flicks Xiao’s hair back out of his face with equal parts chastisement and endearment. “They’re waiting on the machines.” Venti finds Kaeya’s eyes. “MRIs, maybe a CT scan.”

“They took my blood,” Xiao says. “Burglary.”

“Dirty thieves,” Venti agrees. He’s smiling, but there’s pain in it. “They’ll figure out what’s up, don’t worry.”

At least Xiao is talking. Kaeya doesn’t know what he would do if Xiao wasn’t awake, if he wasn’t still just enough of himself. It’d be okay if he wasn’t—Kaeya wouldn’t blame him, not for anything, not for this—but he feels a little better for it.

Venti stands, giving Xiao’s hand one more firm squeeze before settling it beside him on the bed. “I’ll be back,” Venti promises, the weight of it grafted in his eyes. “Don’t let Kaeya give you any trouble, ‘kay?”

Kaeya pretends it wounds him, spreading fingers against his collar. “So cold already? You haven’t even let me introduce myself.”

“I told him you’re a closeted theatre kid,” Xiao says. “That’s, like, both your personality traits.”

“Okay, okay, now—” 

“Like I said,” Venti says, and has the audacity to keep grinning, “don’t let Kaeya give you a hard time, Xiao.”

Xiao nods, but lets his eyes slide shut. Kaeya squeezes his forearm gently. He finds Venti’s eyes before he leaves and Venti mouths thank you, the exhaustion and worry poking in through the pokerface he’d put on for Xiao’s sake, and Kaeya smiles and shakes his head. He’ll thank Venti later, when he can find the words and Xiao is feeling better.

Without the distraction of an unfamiliar presence, Kaeya recenters on Xiao. Xiao has had dark circles under his eyes for as long as Kaeya has known him, but they’re darker now. Or maybe he’s paler. Or maybe it’s both. There’s a deep bruise on his temple, too, that wasn’t there the last time Kaeya saw him. He doesn’t want to think about what caused it.

“Thanks,” Xiao breathes. “Don’t… tell Venti, but I….” He stops, swallowing hard. “Nevermind.”

Kaeya’s stomach sinks. “No, what is it? Is something wrong?”

Kaeya thought he was getting better at understanding Xiao, now that it’s been almost a year. He thought pressing would have been okay, as long as he did it casually enough that Xiao knew he didn’t have to answer.

Except, Xiao’s eyes fill with tears.

“O-Oh,” oh god oh god oh god what has he done, “oh shit, Xiao, I’m—“ Kaeya reaches out, but doesn’t actually know what to do, what did he do? “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—“ 

Xiao makes a desperate grab for his hand, shaking his head.

Xiao doesn’t know how to express himself. He’s getting there, but it’s a long road of unlearning old habits before he can learn new ones, so his genuine intentions typically lie just beneath the surface of what he actually emulates. Zhongli is good at reading those layers; he’s always been closer with Xiao, that’s just how it is, and Kaeya…

Kaeya tries. Gods, does he try. He’s bad at it, but he tries.

And now, he can tell Xiao is grateful he’s here. Not because he’s desperate enough to take anyone and Zhongli isn’t an option, but because he’s grateful Kaeya is here. And he’s scared of being left alone if Kaeya decides he’s too out of his element.

“I’m not going anywhere, alright? I’m not going anywhere.” Kaeya engulfs Xiao’s hand in both of his, because he saw Venti doing it and it seems like an alright idea. “The doctors are gonna figure stuff out, alright? They just wanna run some tests, then you’ll be able to rest, and—” 

Xiao shakes his head. Kaeya falters. 

“I… I’m sorry,” Kaeya holds Xiao’s hand a little tighter, “I don’t understand yet, is it the sleeping or the tests you’re upset about?”

Xiao shakes his head again.

“I don’t—”

The bright lights, the machines, the tubes and bustling people. 

“Oh.”

Now that it’s hit him, he can’t unsee it, and it casts new light to the pleading in Xiao’s eyes. Kaeya would give anything to take him home, where he can feel warm and comfortable and safe, where tubes aren’t sticking out of him and machines don’t clinically sing him to sleep. 

But he can’t.

“I can’t take you home until we know you’re okay,” Kaeya says. “I’m sorry.”

Xiao shuts his eyes, only to keep his tears in place. Kaeya doesn’t know what to do other than hold his hand.

“Do the others know?” Xiao asks, quiet like he doesn’t want to be heard.

And.

Shit.

Shit. Kaeya was in such a hurry to get out the door he completely forgot about Zhongli and Childe and Aether. What is he doing? 

(What the hell is he doing?)

For Xiao’s sake, he keeps a straight face and shakes his head. “I was in such a rush earlier, I forgot all about it.”

“Do they have to know?”

Oh, there’s so much in that. There is so much thrumming below the current of that, and it’s out of Kaeya’s reach and out of Xiao’s physical capacity to delve into. Later. 

“Sorry. I’m all for confiding and secrets, but this isn’t something I can keep from them.”

“I’m back! Sorry about that.” Venti returns, striding across the ward to retake his seat. Blessed distraction. “You feeling any different, Xiao? Better or worse?”

Xiao shakes his head, “No.” Then to Kaeya, “Go get it over with.”

“Wha—you mean now?”

“Now.”

Venti looks back and forth between them. “What?”

“A phone call,” Kaeya answers. Three phone calls—maybe six if none of them answer the first time. Nine if they’re really unlucky. He gets to his feet, giving Xiao’s hand one more tight squeeze before letting go. “Will you two be okay if I step out for a bit?”

“I’ve got him,” Venti says with an unshakeable intensity rivaling even that of Zhongli. A familiar steadfastness Kaeya knows he can trust. “Don’t worry.”

Xiao is in good hands with Venti. Probably more capable hands, too. Kaeya nods, takes his phone and flees into the hallway, toward the waiting room up front.

Is there anyone else he should call? Xiao’s work? Xiao’s— family? He knows there’s shit there between Xiao and his parents, but is there any family Xiao is close enough with? Comfortable enough with?

Is that even something Xiao would feel comfortable telling him if he asked? Kaeya has screwed up enough tonight. Xiao doesn’t need to be put through anything else.

As soon as he’s reached the waiting room, Kaeya slumps into the nearest chair and dials Zhongli’s number. It takes him to voicemail.

“Bastard,” Kaeya hisses, gravel scraping the back of his throat, “bastard, now isn’t the time to have your phone off, pick up.” 

He dials again, but nothing changes. 

“Damn it!” Whisper-shouted, half-screamed, Kaeya scrubs his eyes and flings through his contacts for Childe’s number, second. He should be off work by now. If that fails, Aether is at work, but always picks up. And—

Kaeya passes Diluc’s number and stops.

He stays stopped.

He stays stopped a while more.

There should be thoughts, but there’s nothing. He doesn’t feel or think anything, looking at that number—nothing that’s close enough to the surface of his heart that he acknowledges its existence.

He shouldn’t.

Kaeya dials and presses the phone against his ear so hard that it hurts. The pain only makes him press harder.

Two rings in, it clicks. “Kaeya?”

It’s been years since he last heard Diluc’s voice. He sounds exactly the same, and Kaeya feels choked.

“Hey, Diluc. S-So, uh. It’s been a while? Sorry.”

“What’s going on?” Straight to the point as always when it comes to Kaeya. He would have understood if Diluc didn’t pick up at all. “You don’t call me.”

“No—no, I don’t, I—” Kaeya’s eye burns. He presses the heel of his hand into it in the hopes that it’ll help him get a grip, but that only makes it worse. “Something… something happened, Diluc, something—” His throat closes unexpectedly, cutting him off. Strangling. He makes a noise that doesn’t sound like him and clamps a hand over his mouth. “Sh-Shit.”

“Kaeya?”

“Shit,” Kaeya heaves, spit clogging his throat, “shit, I swear this isn’t how I wanted our first conversation in three years to go, I swear I didn’t mean it to go like this.”

“Kaeya.” Diluc’s voice is anchoring—it always is—but Kaeya knows him well enough to catch the uncertainty thrumming below. “I can put aside our—” A hard stop. The same thing is probably racing through his head that raced through Kaeya’s upon seeing Diluc’s contact. “—Tell me what’s going on.” 

Against himself, Kaeya spills.

“I—I’ve been living with this, this group of people, after—after we… They’re good people. One of them, ah—his, his name is Xiao, he’s, he’s the youngest, he just turned eighteen before he started living with us, and, y’know, he’s… been through a lot of hell. Trying to stay off the radar from his parents. But, tonight, he—he was out with a friend of his, and—he had a seizure? He had a seizure, and, I’m at the hospital right now and his friend is with him, but, they don’t know what’s wrong with him and they’re running a ton of tests, and, I— He… he’s like a little brother to me. He’s like a little brother to me and they don’t know what the hell is wrong with him, and I—“

Kaeya has lost a lot of family. Physically, relationally, emotionally—it’s all gone, all of it, all of it and then some. He folds in on himself and crushes the phone to his ear, Xiao’s smile in his heart and screams in his chest. 

He told himself he wouldn’t get attached. He told himself he wouldn’t get attached.

“I’m scared for him,” Kaeya chokes. “I’m so fucking scared.”

He told himself he wouldn’t get attached to anything resembling family ever again.

“Kaeya,” Diluc says, steady and measured, “ do you want me there?”

It takes him so off guard that the tears withdraw, and Kaeya can finally swallow. “I—what?”

“If you want me there, I will—I will come.”

“But it’s my fau—”

“I will come,” Diluc says, irrefutable, stamping out his own uncertainty. “I mean it.”  

“I…” It’s not fair. It’s not fair to Diluc, Diluc shouldn’t have to pick up his pieces again (and again and again) but—damn it. Damn it. He needs his brother. “Please.”

“Alright.” Something rustles on Diluc’s end. Kaeya has no idea what. “I have to settle my work affairs first, but I’ll try and get there sometime tomorrow.”

“Okay.” The world around him stops feeling real again. “Okay, yeah, that’s—thank you.”

“I haven’t forgiven you,” Diluc says, “and that won’t change, but I’m still your brother. Hold still until I get there.” 

“Okay.”

Diluc hangs up and Kaeya hangs his head with a shuddering sigh.

“Okay,” he says to himself this time. There’s no room left in his chest to feel relief or even hope, and he’s wasted enough time on himself as it is. This is about Xiao. “Okay.” He resumes scrolling through his contacts and is about to call Childe—

—when Zhongli calls him back. Kaeya startles for one ring before punching in.

“Zhongli? Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you. Is something wrong? You called me twice.”

“Yeah—Yeah, so… you have to let me finish talking before you say anything. Just. Listen.”

“I will.” 

Kaeya takes a deep breath. “Xiao had a seizure.” It’s easier the second time, somehow. His hands don’t shake as much. “The friend that was with him when it happened called an ambulance, and we’re at the emergency right now waiting for clearance on the MRI or CT scan, whichever one they decide to do first. He feels like shit, but he’s responsive and the doctors haven’t found any reason to panic.” Yet. “Don’t panic. He’s okay.”

Silence. He was expecting as much—Zhongli isn’t a verbal processor, unlike Childe and himself—but even so, the silence stretches so long Kaeya thinks he might’ve hung up. 

When Zhongli finally speaks, his voice is deathly still. “Which emergency room?” 

“The same one you brought Xiao to last week.”

“Alright. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Is… you’re with him, aren’t you? He isn’t by himself.”

“I stepped out to call, but his friend’s with him, Venti,” Kaeya says. “The one who rode with him in the ambulance. He’s not alone.”

“Alright. Alright, good. I am on my way.”

Kaeya calls Childe next. He doesn’t pick up, so he leaves a stressed message. Then he calls Aether, who does pick up, and swears to meet them at the ER as soon as he can. Having something to do was good for Kaeya’s nerves, but once the phone calls are made and there’s nothing else, his hands tremble, and his temples pound. Have the doctors cleared the MRI yet? The CT scan? It’s been a while—

The hall door swings open. Venti appears with red, hollow eyes and a lax face. 

Kaeya’s feet hit the floor.

“What happened?” He meets Venti halfway with blood in his ears. “Is he okay? Is Xiao okay?“

“He had another seizure,” Venti says. He’s calm—too calm—and takes the seat next to the one Kaeya leapt out of, frigid-postured and hands curled at the knees. “They kicked me out.”

Nothing.

Kaeya doesn’t feel anything. It isn’t even disbelief—it’s a total detachment, a denial that he knows he still understands. Emotional denial? He just thinks about how much Xiao loves dogs and Thai food and how he complains about Converses killing his feet while also refusing to wear his perfectly good tennis shoes (teenagers, jeez—oh god,) and then he thinks about Xiao still being just a teenager, nineteen, and—

Xiao is really sick.

Whatever this is, Xiao is really, really sick.

Kaeya lowers himself into the chair beside Venti. “Was it worse, or, was it more or less the same?”

Venti swallows, hard and thick. “The first one was longer, but he started crying as soon as it was over.” He tugs his hair with both hands. “The doctors told me to leave,” he says. “I should’ve listened, but I fought them, I fought them until they dragged me out, and, I looked back at Xiao and he was—” 

Venti stops, drawing a shuddering breath and tugging his hair harder.

“He’s already hurting,” Venti struggles, lungs cinched as he folds in on himself, “and, I—I made it harder for him.”

Kaeya can’t see Venti’s face anymore, but silent tears hitch his shoulders in between breaths and Kaeya lets him cry, equally silent. Nurses sweep to and fro, doctors push carts and call names, doors open and close and lights burn. Kaeya stops wishing he could erase it all and tries to settle in the present, on what he can do with what little he has.

“I think,” Kaeya starts carefully, and then takes time to breathe. “I think he’ll be grateful that you fought to stay.”

Venti shakes his head, shoulders lurching. “H-He looked so… scared.”

“He is scared,” Kaeya says. “And you fought to stay with him through it. I—” Steady. Steady. Breathe.  “I don’t know how close you two are,” Kaeya says. “But Xiao doesn’t make a habit of being vulnerable around people he cares about. He doesn’t want to make us worry, you know? Given that you’re here, I’m guessing you’re at least close enough that he hides his pain from you.”

The sobs still, and so does Venti, but he doesn’t lift his head.

“That is to say,” Kaeya says, “I know it’s hard to see him act so outside of himself. It’s hard when the people you love go through something that changes the way they act and process. But Xiao isn’t afraid because of you, and you didn’t make this harder for him. I… honestly? I don’t know what this night would look like if you hadn’t cared enough to stay with him through all this. I really don’t.”

Venti looks him in the eyes, the force behind them something Kaeya feels he could reach out and touch. “You… mean that.”

“Of course.”

Venti examines him for no more than a breath longer before caving in and holding his face against his palms, sobs thick and wet. Kaeya lets him again, but not without settling a hand on his shoulder.

Xiao isn’t conscious the next time they’re allowed to see him. They went through with the MRI, which he was apparently awake for, and Kaeya doesn’t understand why he and Venti couldn’t sit with him, but it’s fine, it’s probably just more protocol but still. Either way, the MRI is done and they said the results will only take around half an hour to come in. Venti and Kaeya take vigilance at Xiao’s side.

Twenty some-odd minutes into the thirty, Xiao stirs. He’s been through a wringer, eyes red and dry and surrounded by thick, discolored bags. Kaeya tells him where he is and what’s going on, Venti promises him he’s safe and strokes Xiao’s hair, and Xiao falls asleep with an airy, “M’kay,” too out of it to do much else other than sink back into white hospital sheets and try to breathe against whatever his body’s putting him through. Kaeya feels a mix of relief and gutting.

The doctor (Kaeya can’t remember his name, though he’s been told twice) comes in after forty minutes since the MRI. 

“Well. We didn’t find anything substantial on the MRI.” 

Kaeya cannot think. “What?”

“What do you mean? It can’t have come back normal,” Venti says. “He’s having seizures.” 

“An MRI is only one of the tests we can do,” the doctor says. “We’re trying to get the order cleared for a CT scan, but nothing we’ve found so far indicates an emergency. That’s a good thing. Of course, it isn’t good that he’s having seizures, but that isn’t something we’ll be able to treat here given how little medical history we have on him. That’ll have to go through his primary care.”

“But he’s having seizures,” Venti reiterates. “How is—in what world isn’t that an emergency?”

“Seizures don’t always have to be caused by some greater underlying issue,” the doctor says. “It could be dietary, it could be tied to emotional or mental state, or it could just be a freak one-off instance. We see those here and there. But we won’t know what the next step looks like until we’ve been able to run more tests and get him in touch with a neurologist.”

It doesn’t make sense. Xiao is having seizures and they’re just going to send him home?

“You’re just going to send him home?” Kaeya voices before he can think. “What if he keeps having seizures?”

“We won’t send him home without making sure his life isn’t at risk,” the doctor says, “but we won’t know our next step until the test results are in. I’m sorry, I know you’re upset and worried for Xiao, but he’s in good hands. We’ll do whatever we can to get to the bottom of this and help him feel better.”

It isn’t much—it isn’t enough—but it is all they have. As much as he doesn’t want to accept it, what other choice is there? Fighting the doctor? Demanding a replacement? Whatever’s going on with Xiao is serious, he won’t waste precious time picking fights that only Xiao will suffer the repercussions of losing. 

“How long do you think it’s going to take before we know?” Venti asks. “I know you said there are more tests…”

“Yeah—the CT scan is our next step,” the doctor says. “We’ll be hearing back on that any time.”

Venti nods, but it’s clear that he isn’t committed to this conversation anymore.

“Do either of you have any more questions for me?”

Kaeya says, “No, thanks,” and Venti shakes his head. The doctor reminds them of the Call button once more and probably not for the last time before leaving them be. 

Venti looks exhausted.

“You don’t have to stay,” Kaeya says once they’ve retaken their vigil, stationed on either side of Xiao’s bed. Venti’s head snaps up to find Kaeya’s eyes. “I know you want to, but if you’ve got school or work or need to get home, I’ll look after him.”

“N-No, no, I’ll stay.” Venti clutches Xiao’s hand tighter. “I’ll stay. I already called out of work tomorrow and I don’t have school for a few days. My teachers will understand if I ask for an extension on the homework. And, even without that, I… this is more important. Xiao will always be more important.” 

“Spoken with true conviction,” Kaeya says. “I like it. You really love him, don’t you?”

“I’d break heaven and earth in half for him,” Venti says. “I’d do anything.”

“Xiao will realize that someday,” Kaeya promises. “I see it. He sees it, too; it’s just harder for him to understand. But he’ll accept it. I can tell already that he loves you a great deal, too. And he trusts you.”

“He wouldn’t have hid this from me if he trusted me.”

“Trust is… messier than that,” Kaeya says. “It doesn’t always look the same and it certainly doesn’t always make sense. Xiao does trust you. He didn’t tell you because he thinks that’s how he’s meant to show people he loves them; it has nothing to do with whether or not he trusts you. I promise.”

Venti swallows. “I… I love him so much. I can’t—I can’t stand the thought of him hurting all the time and not saying so.”

That’s mutual. Kaeya nods. “I’m glad Xiao has someone like you in his life.”

“I’m glad to be a part of his life,” Venti says. “And I’m glad he’s a part of mine.”

The CT is cleared within the next hour, and Xiao is taken away from them again. Kaeya wants to know what the hell an “emergency” would look like on these tests. What are the doctors looking for? Should he pray they find something or pray they don’t find something? What should he pray they do or don’t find? Have the blood test results come back yet? Blood speaks a thousand words. If the doctors told him and he forgot he’s never going to forgive himself.

The CT takes an hour, and then they’re allowed to see Xiao in the same room where they initially began. Xiao is awake this time, exhausted but mostly lucid with a lot to complain about. He tells them all about how miserable it was to hold still and try not to fall asleep during the MRI, recounts the dye and the CT, all to convince them this isn’t taking as big a toll on him as it is. Kaeya sees through it—Venti does, too—but it’s Xiao’s way of coping, too, and taking it away from him doesn’t feel right. Another conversation to have later.

A nurse pokes her head in. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” (as though the three of them are doing anything but anxiously awaiting doctors and nurses to interrupt), “but there’s a gentleman named Zhongli in the lobby to see you—”

“Yes,” Kaeya blurts before she can finish asking, “let him in, please.” 

The nurse smiles, nods with a simple, “I’ll send him back,” and ducks out of the room.

He doesn’t dare look at Xiao’s eyes. Xiao didn’t so much as want Zhongli to know he was here, but it’ll be good for Xiao. He drops his guard down more around Zhongli and Zhongli understands him in a way Kaeya and even Venti can’t.

Venti stands. “I’m going to raid the vending machine,” he says. There isn’t any emotion behind his voice—which means he’s feeling something deeply and doesn’t want to show it. Kaeya doesn’t blame him at all for needing a breather. “Do you guys want anything?”

“I’m fine,” Kaeya says. Is Xiao even allowed to have vending machine snacks? “But thank you.”

“I’m fine too,” Xiao says. 

Venti disembarks. Kaeya drums his fingers on his knees. Zhongli should be here any second now unless the nurse got caught up in between leaving and showing him back. Zhongli… is good at this, better at this than Kaeya but, it’s going to be hard for him to see Xiao like this. Kaeya is going to have to explain everything the doctors have done and all the stuff they haven’t found—how is he going to explain that? How can he explain something that doesn’t even feel real when he tells it to himself?

“Kaeya?”

Kaeya shoves the thoughts aside in a heartbeat and turns to Xiao. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Xiao reaches for him and Kaeya shelves his surprise to meet him halfway. Xiao doesn’t have the grip strength, but he doesn’t need it. Kaeya holds fast.

“Thank you,” Xiao says. He swallows, eyes fluttering a bit. “I, I know I don’t—I’m not good with, at, this sort of—th-this whole...”

Kaeya wants to laugh, because that’s just how he handles these sort of tight-chested emotional beats, but Xiao would take it the wrong way, so he just smiles and shakes his head to quiet Xiao’s struggle.

“I get what you’re trying to say,” Kaeya says. “I get it. And, it’s fine, y’know? I’ve never thought less of you just because you aren’t the most social person in the world. It’s alright.”

Xiao’s nails dig into Kaeya’s fingers. “I’m…  worried.”

Worried was a chosen word. There’s more than that. But it’s what Xiao was comfortable to confide in him, and Kaeya nods with a squeeze of his hand (he hopes Xiao doesn’t mind all the squeezing).

“Yeah, that’s okay. I’m worried, too. It’s okay. I’m sorry you have to deal with all this bullshit.”

He hears familiar footsteps down the hall, fast approaching.

“Th-Thank you,” Xiao says again, breathless. “For… F-For…” 

Kaeya nods. “Anytime,” he says, and he means it like he’s never meant it before. “Anytime.”

Chapter Text

“We couldn’t find anything requiring immediate medical care on the CT or the MRI.”

Is that good news or bad news? Dr. Zhou’s tone is mostly neutral, sliding slightly toward hopeful, but he’d gone through the trouble of pulling Zhongli out into the hall to speak to him. That usually isn’t a good sign. 

“There’s one more screening we can do,” Dr. Zhou goes on, “but given the rest of the results, at this point, I personally don’t think it’s worth it.”

Zhongli messed this up once. He’s not going to mess it up again. “Could you do the screening anyway? I’m sorry, but I need to know we’ve been thorough.”

Dr. Zhou nods. “Of course. I’ll let the team know and we’ll see if we can’t get it authorized.”

“Thank you.”

The doctor leaves and Zhongli retreats into their ward.

Xiao is still out, predictably. He hadn’t lasted long after a brief greeting with Zhongli and introducing Venti to him. But Venti has joined him, too, slumped in the plastic chair with his cheek on Xiao’s bed. Kaeya somehow looks worse than both of them.

“What’d the doctor say?” Kaeya asks before Zhongli has the chance to speak first. He even sounds tired, with a foreign lull in his voice.

“They’re going to do one last screening,” Zhongli says. 

Kaeya stares, but Zhongli has nothing more to say. “Wait. Wait, that’s it?”

“The MRI and CT scan came back clear,” Zhongli says. “And his blood work looks good, with the exception of a vitamin D deficit, but—”

“That can’t be it,” Kaeya bursts, getting to his feet. “There’s no way that’s it— we’ve been here for god knows how long, he’s had two seizures.”

“They can’t find anything.”

“They aren’t looking hard enough.”

“Kaeya—”

“No , you don’t get to tell me to calm down,” Kaeya snaps. “Something’s wrong and they’re just going to throw him out like everything’s dandy, without even a clue, and—”

“Kaeya.”

Zhongli hasn’t processed any of this yet. Even Xiao’s seizures. He knows he doesn’t have time to process it now, not while he needs to remain present and steadfast, but that also means he doesn’t know how to properly approach Kaeya and say what he needs to hear.

“I know,” Zhongli breathes. He watches Kaeya back down, a look in his eye like he can’t believe himself. “Trust me, please. I know. I’m just trying to do the right thing, and—maintain enough of a level head that my decisions are rational.”

The last of Kaeya’s rage crumbles down into its true source—fear, weariness, desperation. He sinks down into his chair again and holds his head.

“God,” he murmurs. “God, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you for lashing out,” Zhongli says. He’ll be lashing out himself, too, when Xiao is… not in the ER, at the very least, and Zhongli is alone. “I… don’t know how or when it happened, but Xiao placed me as a shareholder to all his medical information and decisions, should he ever be unable to speak for himself.”

Kaeya looks up slowly, curiosity outweighing his remaining guilt. “Is that why the doctor pulled you into the hall?”

Zhongli nods. “It’s…”

“Yeah.” Kaeya pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh as he leans back. “I’m—I’m really sorry. I know you’re trying to manage all of this.” He rounds his shoulders. “I don’t get it. I don’t get it, why can’t they find anything?”

Logically, Zhongli knows. The ER is a place for diagnosing and treating emergencies. If Xiao is experiencing something else—something requiring different tests and different teams of non-ER specialists—then the only thing to be done here is for them to clear Xiao of any danger to his life and send him home with references and phone numbers.

In his heart, though—the place he’s still learning to listen to and speak from—it’s different. 

“I don’t know,” Zhongli says, quiet. He can’t bring himself to look at Xiao’s still face. “I don’t know.”

Zhongli doesn’t know how to feel when they can’t find anything on the last screening, and Dr. Zhou comes in one last time with a printed list of neurologists, PCPs (since Xiao didn’t have one on record), addresses and phone numbers. Zhongli should be relieved, shouldn’t he? Xiao’s life isn’t in danger. There isn’t a time-sensitive emergency. He doesn’t have a tumor, or a blood clot, or any one of the medical-drama scenarios that flipped through Zhongli’s head. Xiao is, in the eyes of the machines and blood tests and double-checked results, okay to go home.

Zhongli feels like he should be happy. Not everyone gets a lack of results and not everyone gets to go home. And, he is grateful. Thankful. But he isn’t happy.

Dr. Zhou gives him a set of instructions, instructions Zhongli will be damned before he forgets. Five minutes of seizing is when Zhongli needs to call for an ambulance. Also if Xiao stops breathing at any point. Also if he smacks his head while collapsing. Also if he chokes in the middle of a seizure. He’s told what to do as though to expect Xiao’s seizures. Like it’s something normal for them now instead of a problem to be resolved.

Is that what it’ll take? Will Xiao have to suffer that much before they’re able to help him? How far will that go?

“Alright, you’re all checked out now. We’ll have someone bring in a wheelchair and help you to the car, alright?”

Xiao doesn’t protest. He looks better than before, awake and clinically hydrated, and if not for how clearly tired he is, he’d probably even be completely aware. He doesn’t object to the wheelchair when it does come. He doesn’t object to anything. If it were cooperation and not an inability to fight back, Zhongli would be thankful for that, too. But he knows better than to think Xiao is okay with any of this.

Childe and Aether leap to their feet as soon as their entourage hits the waiting room. Childe had called Kaeya while the doctors ran their final screening on Xiao, and Aether’s text came not a minute later. Xiao’s room was at capacity, though, so they waited in the lobby. Zhongli forgot all about it.

“I can carry him from here,” Childe says, swooping in while Aether rushes outside to bring the car around. “Thank you.”

The nurse behind the wheelchair nods and bids them luck. Childe scoops Xiao into his arms with a gentle but detached casualness, like this is just another normal day. Zhongli knows Xiao doesn’t like to be carried, but it’s the lesser of the two evils. He’s away from strangers faster this way.

They make it outside just as Aether rolls up to the curb and hops out, car still humming. The sun is up and too bright. Childe doesn’t waste any time helping Xiao into the backseat. 

“Do you have a ride home?” Aether asks.

Zhongli forgot about Venti.

Venti rode with Xiao in the ambulance, stayed tirelessly by his side overnight, phoned emergency services after the first seizure. Zhongli hadn’t even had the chance to speak with him outside the initial introduction. How could he have forgotten?

Venti giggles, all nerves and no mirth. “U-Um, not unless the ambulance wants to take me back the way I came,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sure I could get an Uber or—“

“Absolutely not,” Kaeya claps back. “My car’s still here, I’ll take you.”

“Kaeya, you look like you were just in an accident,” Aether says. “You are not getting behind a wheel. I’ll take Venti home, Childe will drive the rest of you and me and him will come back for your car once everyone else is situated.”

Kaeya usually puts up more of a fight about people driving his car. Zhongli is starting to notice a trend, and he wants to make it stop. “I—okay. Yeah. Thanks.”

“Xiao’s situated,” Childe says, returning to their side. “He’s already out but he really needs to get home. Do we have car arrangements figured out yet?”

Aether recaps one more time, and of course Childe agrees. Zhongli climbs into the backseat with Xiao, Childe gets behind the wheel and Kaeya takes shotgun. Aether and Venti wave them off.

Xiao is already leaning against the window with his cheek pressed against the glass. There’s gauze taped over both crooks of his elbows from where they presumably drew his blood, and Xiao’s hand is taped and gauzed up, too, after the IV was removed. Zhongli doesn’t dare wake him after what he’s endured, but he does allow himself to settle his hand over Xiao’s wrist, mindful of where the IV had been. 

In the front seat, Childe and Kaeya converse too quietly for Zhongli to make out, but he assumes Kaeya is filling him in. Zhongli should be helping explain the situation, but can’t even bring himself to hone in on the conversation. Contributing meaningfully isn’t in the cards.

When they get home, Childe takes Xiao again and Zhongli follows the two of them and Kaeya upwards toward their apartment. It’s dark and too silent inside, the air stale after being empty for a while. Kaeya turns the light on over the kitchen sink.

“Okay, buddy.” Childe settles Xiao on the couch, uncharacteristically gentle. “There we go. Do you need anything?”

Xiao curls into the back of the couch and shakes his head. Childe tucks a blanket over him anyway.

“Alright, but don’t stay quiet if that changes.” Xiao doesn’t reply. Childe straightens up and faces them. “Kaeya. Go to bed.”

Kaeya jumps, and his immediate attempt to smooth over it fails spectacularly. “I—“

“You won’t be able to come up with a good enough lie, trust me,” Childe says. “You’re dead on your feet.” 

Lying has always been Kaeya’s forte when it comes to hiding himself—as far as masks go, he’s nearly as good as Xiao, if not as good—but he doesn’t try this time. He ducks his head and moves between them, past the couch, down the hall, until the bedroom door is yanked open then slammed.

Childe follows him. Zhongli should have paid more attention to Kaeya in the ER. He should have followed him in Childe’s place to check in, ask how he was, if he was okay, if he needed anything. But he probably would have messed that up, too.

Silently, he kneels by the couch and reaches out to brush Xiao’s hair from his face. Xiao flinches hard against his hand and Zhongli withdraws sharply. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you—”

Xiao buries himself into the back of the couch, the strings of his hoodie twisted around his tight fists. The words stick to the back of Zhongli’s throat and refuse to go any further.

Childe rejoins him, kneeling close, equally quiet. Zhongli scarcely heard his footsteps.

“We’re gonna get Kaeya’s car tonight instead,” Childe says. “He left it in one of those twenty-four hour lots, it’ll be fine.”

Zhongli nods. He has questions, because he knows that isn’t all Childe followed him to talk about, but it’s nothing he wants to say in front of Xiao.

Aether arrives home what feels like barely ten seconds later, toeing off his shoes, locking the door at his back and making his way over. His footsteps are more deliberate than Childe’s, but fuzzier. Zhongli struggles to distinguish them between the sound of his own breathing.

“Is he out?” he hears Aether ask, the words floating. 

“Yeah, he’s out.” Childe’s voice floats, too, too much air encircling each word. He says something else, and Aether responds, but Zhongli doesn’t catch it at all. Xiao’s asleep now, that’s a good—

Is it a good thing? Rest should be good for him. He needs to rest. He needs to heal. He—

“Zhongli?”

Fingertips brush his shoulder and Zhongli recoils sharply. The touch felt like everything and like nothing at the same time, and all he knows is that he wants Xiao to rest until he can wake up and not be in pain. Xiao needs to see those doctors. He needs help.

“Zhongli?”

“References,” Zhongli gasps, the realization slamming into him like a suspended piano. However or whenever it happened, Xiao entrusted Zhongli with his medical information and decisions should he himself be unable to and Zhongli will not betray that trust by doing nothing. “I need to find Xiao a primary doctor so they can refer him through to a specialist—”

“It’s barely six in the morning. The most you can do is leave a voicemail,” Childe says.

Zhongli’s thoughts pelt him, careening. “They have emergency lines—”

“Xiao was just released from the emergency room. The emergency lines won’t be able to help you any more than they could.”

“That can’t be it,” Zhongli says. “There must be something—”

“Okay. Alright.” Childe grips his wrists and rises to one knee. “Alright, come here. You’ve been awake for over twenty four hours. You need sleep, too.”

Zhongli doesn’t budge. “I’m staying with him,” he bites. “What if he needs me?”

What if he has another seizure and he isn’t there?

“I’ll take care of him,” Aether says. “If Xiao needs you, he’s going to need you at your best, not when you haven’t slept in thirty hours. Childe is right.”

Childe looks back and forth between them. “Right? Right! You know it’s serious if Aether is agreeing with me. Come on.”

“I—”

Childe tugs again, though, and Zhongli can only rise to his feet with him. His legs are numb, pins and needles shooting from his ankles to his knees and back down again. Black dots discolor his line of sight, and he feels sick.

“Come on,” Childe says again. “He’s okay.”

Xiao isn’t, though. He isn’t okay. Why did the ER turn him away? He wouldn’t be having seizures if he were okay and he needs to say so, Childe needs to understand—

But not in front of Xiao. Zhongli can’t bring himself to argue about him in front of him. Xiao has had enough.

Zhongli lets himself be led away, his eyes on Xiao until Childe tugs him down the hall and his line of sight is obstructed. Zhongli’s barely turned his head back before finding himself and Childe in his and Xiao’s room. 

Xiao has been sleeping on the couch more, but he notices the emptiness now in a way he hadn’t before.

Don’t they have a rule against sleeping on the couch? They don’t have many rules—not ones that can’t already be surmised in simple common courtesy—but sleeping on the couch overnight was one of them. Clashed with work schedules. Bodysweat. They only had one couch and not enough money to have it deep cleaned. 

The rule hadn’t crossed Zhongli’s mind once and he doesn’t care any more about it now that it has crossed his mind, but it does make him think. What else has he forgotten?

What else is he overlooking?

What else is slipping through his fingers?

Is his incompetence going to cause Xiao further harm?

“Okay!”

Zhongli starts hard again. Childe clicks the door shut behind them and sits on the edge of Zhongli’s bed. 

It happens all at once. Childe yanks him, he loses his balance and tumbles into him, and Childe wraps his arms around Zhongli’s shoulders and rests his chin against the top of his head before Zhongli can react.

“There. Now you’re stuck.” Childe squeezes him around the shoulders. Zhongli blinks at nothing.

“Childe—”

It’s not the first time. He’s known Childe since highschool and growing up in wealthy households hadn’t been kind to their stability. They were each other’s sole companion through the thick of it. Zhongli anchored him. Childe anchored him back. It was a push and a pull, like the tide gives and takes and gives again.

But Xiao is sick.

“I don’t have time,” Zhongli says, surprised at the tightness of his throat. He’d clear it if he thought it would help. “I need to get in touch with—”

“No one’s going to be answering phones at this hour,” Childe says. He sighs, and Zhongli feels it against his cheek. “Listen. You’ve done a lot. Everything you can.”

“There’s—”

“You work a demanding job with demanding hours,” Childe goes on, squeezing him again, “you keep track of our bills and make sure we get our asses in gear in time, you handle all our dealings with the landlord and keep his goodwill—I could go on.”

Zhongli doesn’t trust his voice to pass through his throat unbroken. He doesn’t say anything.

“I know you feel extra responsible for Xiao knowing he’s letting you make medical decisions for him when he can’t and schedule appointments and all of that. But until the offices open, there’s nothing else you can do other than put your own lifejacket on first.”

“It feels wrong.”

That’s the most Zhongli can say without the tightness growing past what he can bear.

“It’s not.” Childe drags a blanket over his shoulders. “We can talk more later, alright? I have arguments. But it’s not.”

Zhongli has arguments, too, but nothing conclusive, and logically he knows Childe isn’t entirely wrong. Zhongli needs to be present if he’s to make the right decisions for Xiao. He needs to be responsible. He can’t mess this up.

Childe shouldn’t have to pick up his pieces. The pieces should never have fallen in the first place.

“You have places to be,” Zhongli says quietly, feeling selfish. “I—”

“I don’t have anywhere to be until work tonight,” Childe contradicts easily. “I’m good to just sit here for a few hours.”

“Childe—”

“You aren’t the only one who needs a break,” Childe says, a light but stale smile in his tone. “Come on. We’ll get Xiao’s appointments scheduled as soon as the offices open.”

Zhongli tries to sit up. “Wait. When d—”

Childe doesn’t let him. “The first one opens at nine tomorrow.”

“How do you know that?”

“Kaeya checked on our way home.”

Kaeya. He needs to thank Kaeya too. He needs to apologize to Kaeya for… He just needs to apologize. He—

He breathes. Tries to. His lungs aren’t letting much in, but he tries to.

He’ll do it when he’s sorted himself. When he’s gotten a grip and tugged himself together, temporarily as it may be, he’ll handle it all. 

Not soon enough, but. Soon.

Chapter Text

The apartment is quiet. The click of the door behind Venti scares his heart into doubletime and he fights to breathe until it ends. 

It’ll be 6am soon. He needs to text his manager to let her know he won’t be in.

Tugging off his shoes. Padding across the room. His feet stink. The living room is clean as always, candles and vase arranged beside neatly-stacked books on the coffee table.

He’d never seen Xiao cry before.

Venti sits down on the couch with his phone heavy between his hands. The kitchen clock ticks its way into his skull and settles in countertime with his heartbeat. His lockscreen carries the one and only picture he’s ever taken of Xiao smiling—a selfie of them both when Venti dragged him downtown to the grand opening of a cat cafe.

Xiao regained consciousness as the ambulance pulled into the ER. Venti had seen the bright EMERGENCY entrance in passing on his commute to work, and he’d been in the ER before as a child after breaking his arm, but he’d never been through that entrance before. They asked Xiao questions and promised that they’d take care of him, that he was in good hands. They got Xiao situated in a room and started rigging up the IV and vital tests and Venti promised Xiao the same thing, and that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Venti shakes his head to snap himself out of it. Xiao is home with his roommates resting, and even just meeting each of them briefly with the exception of Kaeya, who he really got the chance to know, he knows he doesn’t have to worry. They’ll look after him. It’s good that he’s home.

(Is it? The doctors didn’t find out what was wrong.)

Venti shakes his head again, slotting in his password. His homescreen is the same picture. It’s his favorite picture, even if it’s blurry. He should take Xiao there again when he’s feeling better. If he’d known how big of a cat person Xiao was, he would have taken him a lot sooner. 

He doesn’t want to see Xiao cry again.

He shouldn’t have let Xiao come over that night. Would he have had the seizure if he stayed home, resting? He’d complained about having a headache, even though he said he was fine later. Or was it a good thing that it happened in front of him? What if Xiao had been alone? What if—

Had Xiao walked to his apartment?

Venti squeezes his eyes shut against the burn. They were lucky. He should be grateful. But what happens next? He doesn’t want this for Xiao. He doesn’t want Xiao to be in ERs or hospitals or scheduling appointments with specialists. He wants to take Xiao to cat cafes and try to convince him that iced coffee is the way the gods intended it and go ice skating and ask him about—

Is there even a time for asking him that anymore? He planned to do it when they were watching the stars together, before everything changed, but is it even right of him to ask anymore?

Xiao should be happy. Xiao deserves to be happy, not— Xiao doesn’t deserve this.

Venti re-enters his password and pulls up his messages. His fingers shake. He bites his lip and feels it finally start to bleed after a night of chewing on it.

[Venti]
hey Xiao I’m sure you’re asleep and I hope I’m not waking you up and if I do please ignore this and just read it in your own time. you don’t have to respond.

The screen goes blurry. He wipes his eyes but it doesn’t help and he gives up after the second try. 

[Venti]
but I just wanted to say that I’m here.
the medical stuff doesn’t change that. I’m here and I’m going to stay here.
I’m here for all of it no matter how hard it gets and I love you and I’m not afraid of being by your side. I’m not afraid of how hard it might be and I’m not going to run.

Tears spill over his cheeks and nose and splash onto the phone. He smudges them off with the hem of his sleeve.

[Venti]
just let me know if there’s anything I can do. if you need anything. or if you just want company. no matter what it is, if there’s anything I can do I want to do it.
I’m here if you need me.
I’ll always be here if you need me.
anytime.
I love you.
please rest a lot and don’t worry about work or school. we can sort it out after you’re feeling better.
rest well <3

“Venti?”

Venti jumps, his phone slipping out of his hands. Bennett hangs onto the doorframe with one hand, clearly having just rolled out of bed.

“Are you okay?” Bennett asks.

Xiao had two seizures. They were long. They hurt him. Is he still in pain?

Venti clamps his hands over his mouth, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut until he sees stars. He can’t breathe.

“Whoa, Venti.” Bennett sinks into the couch beside him and wraps him up, tugging him in close. Venti shakes his head ardently. He doesn’t need the comfort, he isn’t the one anyone should be worried about, did Xiao get a hug from anyone? Bennett doesn’t let him pull away, though and Venti can’t help but lean into him. “Hey, I’ve got you. Don’t smother yourself, alright?”

He tugs Venti’s hands down from over his mouth, but Venti just keeps shaking his head. He’s fine, yeah. He’s fine. He’s fine. They don’t have to worry about him, they shouldn’t worry about him. Xiao had two seizures. Xiao looked so scared. 

Something shuffles nearby and another set of arms comes around him from the opposite side. He recognizes the smell of chamomile tea. Albedo shouldn’t be awake yet; he’s always on-time and particular about where his time goes. Why is he awake?

He squeezes Venti and Bennett tight and Venti doesn’t have the energy to pull away. Tears choke him out with the memories and the picture of Xiao’s smile and he wants to throw up.

“It’s not fair,” Venti heaves. “It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair—”

That’s as much as he can force past his constricting throat and the sobs locked in place there. 

Venti can’t lose him. He just wants Xiao to be happy and he can’t lose him.

Childe tried to sleep. It didn’t come to anything, but he did try. 

He has too much pent up energy to lay down, even with Zhongli sound asleep against him. With nothing else to do with his hands, he threaded his fingers through his best friend’s hair, twisting sections into thin braids his sister taught him.

He checks the time. 7:24am. Could be worse. He leans back into the headboard with a sigh and tugs Zhongli closer, feeling him breathe. Hopefully his shift this afternoon tires him out enough that he can sleep. 

Childe pulls Zhongli’s hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear. When he doesn’t stir, Childe moves slowly, slipping out from under and around him until he’s free and Zhongli is still fast asleep on his side, hair half-braided and all over the place. Childe tries pushing it back again—pointlessly, of course—and after settling a quilt around Zhongli’s shoulders, quietly makes his way out.

Aether is still on the couch scrolling his phone, but Xiao is gone.

“Morning,” Childe says, looking around. “Where’s Xiao?” 

“He wanted to take a shower,” Aether says.

Childe sighs. “I don’t blame him. Hospitals are gross.” He takes a seat and lets the silence settle until he hears the water down the hall turn on and the shower start. “How was he? Did he mention how he felt at all?”

“He just said his head hurt and he wanted to shower,” Aether says. There are dark rings under his eyes. “And that he wouldn’t faint and that if he needed me he’d shout. He seemed frustrated, though, so I didn’t fight him on it.”

“Yeah.” Childe leans back. “That makes sense.” 

Childe has never been in that place himself, but his older brother had been in a wreck years ago that left him bedbound for a few weeks. There were certain areas of independence he fought for and needed, just to keep his head on straight even if it pushed him. Childe couldn’t empathize, but he could try to imagine.

“You should sleep,” Childe tells Aether. “Zhongli will be up making phone calls soon, and I don’t have anywhere to be. I’ll listen out for Xiao.”

Aether turns to frown at him. He looks exhausted. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Childe says, ruffling Aether’s hair to annoy him. “Come on, you can trust me!” 

Aether flattens his gaze into something more deadpan. Childe snorts.

“Don’t look at me like that, either.”

“I know, I know, I’m just making fun of you,” Aether says, sighing. He shoves himself to his feet. “Thanks.”

There’s nothing else to say when it comes to Aether, so Childe just salutes and Aether rolls his eyes and takes his leave. Aether has never been a person of many words and he and Childe settled into the mutual, half-serious backhandedness as early as day one. It’s fine.

Childe hops to his feet, retrieves a bagel from the kitchen cabinet and begins his daily quibble with the thrift shop toaster, that for whatever reason only decides to remind him it’s from a thrift stop when he’s the one trying to use it. It works just fine for everyone else. Even Xiao, who practically lives on bagels, has never run into a single problem.

The shower is still running down the hall. Childe doesn’t have an appetite, but eats because he knows he should. The shower keeps running. And running. 

Childe only knows as much as Kaeya told him on the way back from the ER, and he’s avoided thinking too far into it before having the whole story. But it’s fair to be concerned at how long the shower has been going, right?

He’s just thinking he should check when the water cuts out. He leans back into the couch with a deep sigh of relief, slinging an arm over his eyes. Well, at least he was going to check. He’d rather plan to check and it be a false alarm than convince himself it’s fine and make a terrible mistake.

Time passes and Xiao doesn’t come out of the bathroom. A long shower is understandable, especially after being in the ER all night; Childe can get behind that. But the water isn’t running anymore.

Childe checks the time. 8:31am. He hadn’t thought to time the shower but the water’s definitely been off for well over twenty minutes. 

He waits two more minutes before getting his feet beneath him and knocking twice on the bathroom door, as calm and collected as he can. He’s concerned, sure, but won’t worry until he has a reason to.

There’s no response, though, which is probably a reason to.

“Hey, Xiao?” Childe knocks again. “You alright? Not trying to invade your space or anything, but…”

He doesn’t get an answer, though. Usually by now Xiao would’ve told him to piss off, but… now that Childe thinks about it, Xiao hasn’t picked a fight with him since he got sick. Childe understands that, but Xiao has been sick before and still made it clear how much he hated Childe’s guts. The distinct lack of himself makes Childe ache a little.

He knocks one more time. “I’m going to have to come in if you don’t answer, dude.”

No answer. Childe sighs and tries the handle, surprised to find it unlocked, and pushes the door open.

He didn’t expect anything on purpose, in the attempts it would make him more prepared for whatever he did open the door to. But it doesn’t even seem like he had to be prepared at all; Xiao’s sitting on the floor in a hoodie and sweatpants, hair still sopping wet and dripping water all over his sleeves, and he’s leaned against the cabinet fast asleep.

Childe sighs again, relieved. Xiao wouldn’t appreciate being startled awake if Childe tried carrying him, and he thinks back to Aether and his brother and independence, and instead kneels close and shakes Xiao’s shoulder.

“Hey, buddy.”

Xiao stirs slowly, eyelids fluttering before his gaze settles on Childe’s face. His expression twists up and he shrugs Childe’s hand off his shoulder, curling into the cabinet.

“F’k off.”

Childe laughs. “Ah, there you are! You had me worried there for a sec, thought you forgot all about hating my guts. Oh, hey.” Xiao tips his head against the cabinet and Childe squeezes his shoulder, voice falling. “You good there?”

“I’m fine.” Xiao shoves his hand off a second time with a tired, almost convincing glare. “I just got dizzy, I’m fine.”

“Alright. Well, if you’re going to sleep, you should do it in a bed. How do you feel about walking?”

“Fine.” As though to prove it, Xiao pushes himself to his feet and Childe rises with him. For some reason, it’s then his brain decides to try and picture Xiao having a seizure. It doesn’t feel real, but he hates it anyway and shakes it off. “You don’t have to hover,” Xiao says, almost conflicted. “I feel better than I did yesterday.”

“Well, that’s good to hear! Keep it up, yeah?” Childe pushes the door open and gestures theatrically. “After you.”

Xiao kicks him in the ankle. It kind of hurts, but Childe laughs, and Xiao’s eyeroll shreds the last of the tension in Childe’s soul. It’ll be back, and there’s a lot of unknowns, but at least for now Xiao is alright.

Kaeya is another story.

Childe doesn’t say what he actually thinks—that being, Kaeya looks like he just crawled out of a ditch—but it must show up in his smile, because Kaeya walks straight past him toward the kitchen cabinet and says, “Don’t start.” 

“Did you sleep?” Childe starts. 

Kaeya reaches around him for a poptart. “Couldn’t tell,” he says. He nearly hits Childe with the cabinet door without realizing it; Childe always forgets about his lack of depth perception. “Mind taking me to get my car?”

“Oh, sure.” He glances down the hall out of habit, but Xiao fell asleep as soon as he settled in bed, and Zhongli will be awake within the half hour. He’ll be fine. “When do you wanna go?”

“Now would be optimal.”

“I’ll get my shoes on.”

“Thanks.”

Childe habitually wants to play up the favor as some impossible task, and Kaeya would usually bounce back with equal theatrics, but he can tell Kaeya isn’t up to it today. Childe shoves on his tennis shoes, grabs his keys and Kaeya joins him at the door. They set off together.

It’s not a long drive, but the silence is too out of character for Kaeya. Even driving home from the ER hadn’t been this quiet.

“Xiao looked like he was feeling a little better this morning,” Childe says. “He kicked me in the leg and everything.”

Kaeya snorts with a half-smile, but it feels stale. “You probably deserved it.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the point I was trying to make.”

“I know.”

“Thanks for being there with him yesterday.”

Kaeya’s smile twitches, but he’s reassembled his pokerface a little, and—Childe is hit with the realization, suddenly, that he doesn’t know Kaeya well enough to see past it. That bothers him. “I didn’t do much,” Kaeya says. 

“I’m sure Xiao was glad you were there.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have gone for the jugular, but he’s not an idiot. He isn’t unbothered by the news that something is very wrong with Xiao. He isn’t going to tell his housemates he got pulled over twice for speeding through the commute between his workplace and the ER. Xiao’s family to him, like Zhongli is family to him, and now Kaeya and Aether are family to him. He can’t pretend these things are just surface anymore, least of all when Kaeya is lying through his teeth.

Kaeya doesn’t say anything, though. He keeps his head forward.

“My brother is coming to visit,” Kaeya says.

Childe frowns. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“I didn’t know I still had one until yesterday, either,” Kaeya says, quiet. He takes a breath and holds it for a while before going on. “He’ll be here later.”

Childe wraps his hands around the steering wheel a little tighter and focuses on the road signs while he thinks. “I’d say we could give him the couch while he’s here,” Childe says. “But I don’t know how Zhongli or Xiao would feel about that.”

“He already booked a hotel. It’s better that way. There’s…” 

Kaeya stops and Childe waits. 

“I fucked things up between us,” Kaeya says, his voice a perfect, untouched cold front with no sign of breakage. “Don’t know why he’s even going through the hassle of seeing me again.”

Childe’s train of thought had been circling, gathering choice words as it went. Now it circles the drain, drowns, and he doesn’t know what to say.

He’s never been able to relate to family issues. He loves his family with everything he has and they’ve never once given him a reason to think they loved him any less than that. His parents and siblings supported his choice to leave behind his heritage and seek out a different path. Even as a teenager, when Zhongli struggled to break it off with his own parents who were far more reluctant and damning, Childe could only offer companionship—no advice, no comforting words, not even reassurance that they still loved him. And Xiao’s family baggage was the same. Other than be a listener and a friend to throw verbal hands with, there was nothing Childe could do.

Now Kaeya. Childe doesn’t even know Kaeya half as well as he knows Zhongli. He feels like he understands Xiao even more than he understands Kaeya, despite hitting it off well with him out the gate. 

“But he is coming to see you again,” Childe says, carefully. “Which means there has to be something there, right?”

Kaeya watches the city pass out the window. “Maybe.”

“Just let whatever happens happens.” They reach the parking garage, and Childe pulls through. “When you meet up with him later, you know? Be honest. Where’d you park?”

“Oh—the next row, on the left.”

“Gotcha.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“I meant for—”

“I know.” Childe waits until the car is fully stopped before turning to him with a grin. “No problem.”

Kaeya laughs scarcely. 

Xiao feels more human the next time he opens his eyes.

He’s sure he remembers a lot more than he thinks he does from the ER, and maybe he’s still just too exhausted for it to all come to mind, but so long as it’s buried he has no inkling to dig. He’s tired. Frustrated. His arm hurts from being stuck so many times and his eyelids feel taped together.

But the headache has tapered into a dull throb, he isn’t sick to his stomach and he doesn’t have a fever, and he sits up and blinks into his and Zhongli’s sunny bedroom. His hair is a mess from sleeping on it wet, still damp in some places, and the collar of his hoodie is grossly moist for the same reason, but he’s warm and comfortably groggy, and he slept well, so. That’s some type of win. 

“—fect, thank you. We’ll see you Wednesday? Excellent. Thanks again for everything. Yes. Bye.”

Zhongli shoulders the bedroom door open, silently, lowering his phone. He meets Xiao’s eyes.

“You’re awake,” Zhongli says, with a tentative and exhausted smile. Guilt tumbles through him as familiarly as nausea. Zhongli sets his phone down on the end table and sits beside him on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Xiao says. Vague but potent memories from the ER are resurfacing at the look on Zhongli’s face, and he tries to shake them off. “You don’t have to worry about me so much,” Xiao says. “They wouldn’t have let me go if it was an emergency.”

He doesn’t understand why they let him go, because he can’t picture a society where having consecutive seizures isn’t some type of emergency, but he’s already stressed Zhongli out enough. He won’t say that out loud.

“Yes, well.” Zhongli sighs. “I am glad you’re feeling better. You do sound more like yourself—ah, I scheduled an intake appointment for a primary care physician. Unless you already have one and I wasn’t aware.”

He had a pediatrician while he was a minor, but didn’t think about it since turning eighteen and running away. “I don’t. Now that I’m feeling better though I can take over the scheduling. Erm… thanks.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind—”

“It’s fine,” Xiao bites. Zhongli already has so much on his shoulders. Xiao wishes he’d stop trying to take on more. “I appreciate it. But I’m okay.”

Zhongli opens his mouth and Xiao wants to hear what he thinks about it—but he stops, sighs, and nods. “Alright, I understand. I’ll get you the reference sheet from Dr. Zhou.” 

Xiao doesn’t remember who that is, but Zhongli has already gotten to his feet so he doesn’t ask. If it’s important it’ll come up later. “Thanks.”

Zhongli nods and closes the door behind him. Xiao wishes he would’ve spoken his mind—but Zhongli always did hold back with him, tried to spare him from what he could. Xiao appreciated it at first, but now it feels like a lie and he wants to know what Zhongli thinks. 

He snags his phone while he waits, and turns it on again.

After booting, a slew of messages from Venti flood the screen.

Shit

Shit, Venti must have been terrified. 

Xiao skims through them as quickly as he can, his hands stiff. He can’t believe he didn’t think to check his phone sooner—he didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye to Venti at the ER, did he? He just fittled around between consciousness and unconsciousness the whole time, he didn’t get to say goodbye or thank him. 

Kaeya, Childe, Zhongli, Aether, now Venti. 

He really is just making life harder for everyone around him, isn’t he?

Venti’s messages are sweet, but there’s too much panic in them for him to have been at all in a stable mindset. The words are drowned in worry and find themselves in a place between feeling like Venti wrote them and like Venti could never. Xiao reaches the end of the backread, the scrollbar lurching at the force, and he speeds through a message.

[Xiao]
I’m okay, I’m feeling better now.
I didn’t mean to freak you out.
Sorry it took so long to reply.
I’m fine.

[Venti]
XIAO
holy shit oh my god
;;;;; how are you?? are you okay?
did you sleep? please tell me you slept
how do you feel?

[Xiao]
Groggy as heel but alright
Hell
I didn’t mean to worry you.

[Venti]
xiao it’s not your fault i’m just glad you’re doing better i was really scared
you havent had anymore seizures have you?

[Xiao]
not since being home. I promise I’m okay

[Venti]
okay;; I’m glad

[Xiao]
How are you?

[Venti]
oh I’m fine!! yeah I’ve just been catching up on sleep and homework. better now that I know you’re okay.

Xiao’s stomach flutters. He can’t tell if it’s endearment or guilt or an amalgamation of both. He types out and erases a thank-you several times; none of them feel sincere, and none of them get across what he wants to get across. After the fifth attempt leads him frustrated enough to consider throwing his phone across the room, he: 

[Xiao]
Can I call you?

His thumb has barely lifted off Send before [Incoming Call - Venti] engulfs his screen. The fond warmth in his chest swells, and he can’t even find it in him to roll his eyes. He really does love Venti.

He picks up and presses the phone to his ear. “Hi.”

“Xiao!” Venti sounds happy in a real way—not like all the forced smiles he put on at the ER. “AW, it’s so nice to hear your voice. You do sound a lot better! How’re you feeling?”

“Venti,” Xiao says, “thank you.”

“What?”

“Thank you for being at the hospital with me,” Xiao says. “You had better things to do and I know you went out of your way, for me, but I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there. So... thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Venti says, “but I think you’ve got it wrong. I wanted to be there. I know it was already hard enough for you, but, I… I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like going through it alone.”

Xiao can’t imagine, either. Trying makes him feel sick. “Yeah, I…” They aren’t thoughts he wants to dwell on while he’s actually feeling okay, so he leaves them behind and says, “You should come over sometime. I owe you after having a seizure on your porch.”

Venti makes an indiscernible noise. Maybe Xiao went too far with that one. “You don’t owe me,” Venti says, “but I’ll still come over sometime! I’ve been meaning to—” He stops abruptly, like he’d been yanked there. “Actually, uhm, Xiao… there’s something I’ve… kind of wanted to talk to you about for a long time? But it never… I don’t know, I just, I love you a lot and I wasn’t sure how you’d… but now, and—”

Xiao frowns. “Is your connection bad? I think you’re cutting out.”

“No, no, I’m just trying to figure out how to say it,” Venti says. “Uh—I wanna talk about… about, that.” 

“About what?”

“About… loving you.”

Something stretches to the point of snapping in Xiao’s chest, but he can’t tell what or why. “Oh.” 

“Yeah. It’s… if you aren’t in the mood to talk about it that’s okay! It’s not anything urgent or bad or anything like that—and I’m not saying I don’t love you, it’s just—but I might’ve picked a bad time for it and, if you aren’t in the mood I understand. Oh, god, my timing was terrible I’m so sorry.”

“I’d rather get it out of the way,” Xiao says. “If it’s something you’ve wanted to talk about for a while. Would it—I mean, would it be better to talk about in person?”

“Oh! No, I, I think over the phone is fine? It’s nothing super… like, it’s not a big deal, I’m making it sound way more monumental than it is. Are you sure you wanna talk about it, though? If you wanted to wait, I’d understand.”

“The suspense is going to eat me alive if I put it off,” Xiao says. “Uh. One second.” He doesn’t know when Zhongli is going to be back, so he hops off the bed and makes a beeline down the hall for the bathroom. He flicks on the lights and shuts the door in nearly the same motion, only pressing the phone to his ear again when he’s seated on the tile with his back against the wall.

“Okay,” Xiao says, “I’ve locked myself in the bathroom. Shoot.”

“Oh my god I really did make it sound like a big deal didn’t I.”

“Venti.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll start.” He listens closely, hearing Venti’s inhale and shaky exhale. “So, like… I mean, like… I really like you? A lot? And, I admire you a ton, and I’ve always thought you were really cool even though you were kind of intimidating at first—it started off as just wanting to be your friend but now it sort of feels like it’s… going deeper than that, if that makes sense?”

Xiao’s mouth goes dry. “Venti, you know how I feel about being romantically involved with someone.”

“I know, I know! Don’t worry, it’s not about that, I promise!” Venti says. Xiao imagines the panic on his face; maybe he waves his hands around. “Because, like… okay, so, I do want to date you but not, like, as a romantic thing. But also not like just a friend? You know? I want to be in a serious relationship with you without the—without the romance… if that makes sense?”

Xiao blinks at the wall. “Like a queerplatonic relationship or something?”

“Oh my god there’s a term for it?”

“I think so?” Xiao’s tension slips away and he crosses his legs to get more comfortable. “I just heard it in passing but I think it’s the right th—you’re googling it, aren’t you?”

“OH MY GOD THERE’S A TERM FOR IT.”

Xiao yanks the phone away from his ear just in time to avoid Venti’s squeal. When it’s over, he scoffs, “Venti.”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, I’m just—I didn’t know it was a thing!” Venti says. “Okay, so—so yeah! Like that, like… because I really do love you, Xiao, I really do, and, I… if you wanted to be my partner, I would definitely love to be yours.” 

Xiao’s heart pounds into his ribs. “I—“

“It’s okay to say no! We could just be friends and I’d still be the happiest person alive.”

“No, I… I love you too.” Xiao’s tongue is thick and clumsy. “The way you’re describing. I would—I would love to be your partner, but—do you still…” Trying, he shifts again, but can’t get comfortable this time. He bites his lip. “I don’t know what this medical bullshit is yet,” he says, curling and uncurling his toes against the cool tile. “I don’t want you to feel somehow… tied to me.”

He has tried astronomically hard not to consider that this medical issue could be terminal. But it isn’t like the thought has never crossed his mind, no matter how quickly he banishes it. He grips the phone and forces his lungs to take in air.

“I mean, if you want to wait for your own sake, I understand,” Venti says. “But if you’re concerned for my sake, being in a relationship with you wouldn’t change anything between us. Before anything else, you’re my best friend, Xiao. I wouldn’t be extra tied to you as a partner. The commitment would be different but the results would stay the same—if that makes sense? I hope that makes sense. Just, don’t say no for my sake. I love you now.”

Xiao’s chest hurts. He can’t see why Venti would be willing to go through with this in spite of everything. If their roles were reversed Xiao would do it for him, but the thought of someone doing that for him is…

He bites his cheek. “I love you now, too.”

“... So…? What do you think?”

Xiao takes as deep a breath as his fluttering chest allows. “I think I would love to be your partner.”

Venti screams. Xiao whips the phone back again.

“You’re going to have to stop doing that.”

“Sorry sorry sorry sorry!” Venti says in one breath. “I’m sorry, Xiao, I’m just—! Oh my gosh I want to hug you so badly, I’ve been wanting to ask you for so long but I just kept putting it off because I didn’t want to make anything weird because I know you said before that you weren’t interested in a romantic relationship and I wasn’t sure if that meant any sort of relationship at all and I didn’t know there was a term for it I thought it was just a me thing, but then you got sick and it made me realize just how much you mean to me and I’m sorry if this was the wrong time but I just couldn’t—”

“Venti.”

“Sorry! Sorry, I’m just… I’m really happy, Xiao.”

“I am, too.” It comes out more earnestly than he meant it. Xiao clears his throat. “What does this… what does this change for us?”

“Uh…” It doesn’t sound like Venti’s thought this far ahead, either. “I guess we can hold hands? Or like… I don’t know. How do you feel about cuddling? Because we could do that? I know you aren’t a super touchy-feely person, though, so if not that’s okay.”

Xiao ponders. He isn’t against the thought of it, but he doesn’t have many good things to associate with physical touch. But he doesn’t mind when Zhongli hugs him or touches him, outside flinching when he isn’t expecting it. Venti’s touches have never bothered him either.

“I don’t hate it,” Xiao says. “I think I might just need time to get used to it. Maybe? I don’t know…”

“I mean, that’s fine! I don’t expect you to push yourself to do anything you aren’t okay with. The point of hand-holding and cuddling is that it’s supposed to be nice, but if it’s not nice for you then we don’t have to do those things.”

“Mm.” Xiao pictures being in Venti’s arms, having Venti in his arms, or their hands clasped tight. “I want to try, I think. It might take a while, but I want to do that with you.”

“Okay, because I want to do it with you too but only if you feel the same way and promise to say something if that changes.”

Xiao huffs. “I will.”

“Great! So, uh. We’re partners now?”

His stomach flutters. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Nifty!”

Venti’s voice cracked. Xiao chokes. “Nifty,” Xiao coughs.

“OH MY GOD.”

“Nifty,” Xiao repeats.

“Oh my GOD,” Venti reiterates. “I said NIFTY?”

“You always were a poet.”

“XIAO.”

“I love you.”

It slips out like he’d been saying it for years. Venti stops shrieking and Xiao can’t even bring himself to flush, or be embarrassed, or stammer and try to recollect himself. The leftover tension is gone. The questions are gone. The insecurity, too. Everything.

“Aww, Xiao.”

He says it so earnestly, Xiao’s eyes sting.

“I love you, too.” 

Xiao sucks in a breath through his teeth, suppressing the urge to cry. Stupid health issues and insomnia and exhaustion and ER drugs. He scrubs his eyes with his sleeves. “Mmm.”

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“No.”

“I could invite myself over! I’ll even bring a casserole for your housemates as bribery.”

“You don’t have to bribe them.”

“But I want them to like me, Xiao, this is my rite of passage.”

“They already like you.”

“My RITE OF PASSAGE, Xiao.”

Xiao starts to laugh, but pain shears through his temple and he snaps his teeth together, squeezing his eyes shut. Shit, he wasn’t expecting that. That needs to stop happening.

“Xiao? Xiao, are you okay?”

“Fine, fine, fine,” Xiao says, digging his fingers into his temple. He hates how quickly Venti’s voice shifted from loud and joking to tight and afraid. “Sorry. My head just decided to nerf me.”

“Wh—you mean you’ve been in pain this whole time and you didn’t say anything?”

“Not the whole time,” Xiao says. “I wanted to hear your voice.”

“That’s not any reason to hurt yourself! You can hear my voice anytime, you should rest if you aren’t feeling well.”

That’s it, though. Xiao hasn’t felt well. Resting hasn’t made a difference. Doctors haven’t made a difference. He’s not going to feel better after resting and he wants to talk to Venti now.

But he doesn’t feel well and Venti isn’t wrong. Xiao wants to fight and barely has the energy to think.

“Fine,” Xiao says. The fluttery feeling has subdued, replaced with frustration and questions and pain. “I’ll rest.”

“Okay, good. And I’ll come over tomorrow to see you if you’re up to it.”

“I’ll be fine,” Xiao says quickly. These shitty health issues are not keeping him from Venti, even if that means smiling through hell. “We could always just put on a movie and relax.”

“I thought you didn’t like movies?”

“They’re decent whitenoise, if nothing else.”

“We could watch Fight Club.”

Xiao inhales. “Is it too soon to joke about breaking up with you? Because I’m breaking up with you.”

“Hey! Don’t be li—wait, no, you’re supposed to be going to bed! We’ll get into the nitty gritty of this tomorrow, Xiao, mark my words.”

“Words marked.”

“Now you’re mocking me.”

“I thought you wanted me to go to bed.”

“I do I do! Go to bed! I’ll text you before coming over tomorrow.”

“Cool.”

“Well, I love you, Xiao! Goodnight!”

“Goodnight. I love you, too.”

Venti hangs up and Xiao presses his phone up against his heart with a shuddering exhale.

Zhongli, Childe and Aether are sitting around the kitchen table with Chinese takeout boxes when Xiao reemerges later that evening, after having slept off the rest of the day. Venti’s voice is still fresh and warm in his mind. His smile, too, even though Xiao hasn’t seen it in a while. He loves Venti’s smile.

“Hey!” Childe waves him over. “Good morning! There’s food if you’re hungry.”

“It’s evening,” Zhongli says. But he does seem lighter, like he’d slept some more. He regards Xiao with a smile and it feels full. “I hope you slept well.”

“Like Childe on the job,” Xiao says, because he can, and because he hasn’t bullied Childe enough this week and he wants normality back. “Where’s Kaeya?”

“Oh,” Childe pushes a takeout box of rice toward Xiao as he slides into the chair beside Aether, “last I heard he’s meeting up with his brother.”

Apparently Xiao wasn’t the only one in the dark. Zhongli and Aether, too, turn their heads.

“Kaeya has a brother?” Zhongli says. “He never mentioned his family…”

Childe shakes his head, fumbling with his chopsticks and a noodle. “Yeah, I don’t know. It sounds like there’s not a lot of chemistry there, but his brother is going out of his way to visit, so, hopefully it works out for him.”

The elation stilts at the thought of Kaeya. Xiao hasn’t been able to thank him yet—he hasn’t seen Kaeya at all today, or since the ER. He knows Kaeya wasn’t in his element. He wants to thank him properly, like he thanked Venti.

Venti.

His partner, Venti.

His partner, Venti. 

“Alright, you.” Aether points his chopsticks at him. “Did something happen?”

Xiao snaps out of it. “... No? Why do you ask?”

Aether scoops up a spool of noodles. “Just thought you looked a little starry-eyed.”

“Starry-eyed?” Childe slams his hands against the tabletop and leans forward. Xiao scoffs. “Wait, I sort of see what Aether means.”

“No you don’t,” Xiao says, crossing his arms. “And Aether doesn’t see anything either.”

“Tonally,” Zhongli says, setting down his chopsticks, “you do sound a bit in the air, Xiao.”

“Yeah,” Xiao stresses, “because I’m feeling better.”  

“Deflection,” Childe accuses. But he grins. “Come on! It’s something good, isn’t it? That’s good!”

“Maybe I was in a good mood,” Xiao says, leveling him with a glare, “but I’m not so sure anymore.”

“It could be worse,” Childe says, shrugging, “you could need a stool to reach the top shelf. Oh, wait!” He snaps his fingers in mock epiphany, but Xiao kicks him hard from under the table before he can finish it. Childe’s knees hit the bottom of the table. “OKAY, that actually hurt this time!”

“Is it about Venti?” Zhongli asks.

Venti. 

Xiao can’t catch his smile in time. Childe’s palms slam the table again.

“It’s not what you think,” Xiao says immediately. “We aren’t—I mean, we are, but—we talked earlier and decided to be platonic partners. I don’t know if that makes sense to you but it makes sense to us.”

“Oh!” Childe turns to Zhongli. “We sort of had something like that in high school, didn’t we? But we didn’t put a word to it or talk about it at all.”

Xiao studies Zhongli’s face. Zhongli doesn’t talk about himself or his past, and always finds new and innovative ways to dodge the subject whenever Xiao asks. But Zhongli only stares at him like he hadn’t heard Childe at all.

“I was only guessing about Venti, since you were on the phone earlier,” Zhongli says. “But I’m very happy for both of you.”

“This calls for a toast!” Childe is about to tap a chopstick against the side of his waterglass, but Zhongli catches his wrist. “Come on, are you against toast now, too!?”

“They are different things,” Zhongi says. “Besides, you don’t know how to make toast.”

“Our toaster hates me! You’ve seen what it does to Kaeya, the only person who can use it is Xiao!”

Aether takes a long sip of tea. “I mean—”

“Aether,” Childe says, “my dude, my pal, my buddy, do not side with the toaster over me.”

“No, actually,” Zhongli lets go of Childe’s wrist, “I would like to hear your defense of the toaster.”

“This isn’t about toast,” Childe says. He throws up his hands. “That’s it, I’m never going to try to be funny again. My sense of humor just curled up and died, it’s gone.”

Xiao raises a glass. “I’ll toast to that.”

“N—! Oh my god.” Childe laughs more high-pitched than normal when Zhongli and Aether mirror Xiao’s gesture with their teacups. “Well.” He raises his water cup. “If you can’t beat them and all that jazz. Death to my sense of humor, prosperity to Xiao and Venti.”

“Death to Childe’s sense of humor, prosperity to Xiao and Venti,” Zhongli and Aether echo. They clank glasses before Xiao can fully realize what they’ve cheered to. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Xiao says, even as spring swings through his chest with sunshine and blooming flowers and everything. “But, thanks.”

Kaeya waits downtown outside their least popular local coffee shop, unable to hold still or keep his hands off his phone. Diluc texted him not too long ago with an arrival time of in ten minutes, and Kaeya can’t even remember how much time has passed since then. He just keeps refreshing his phone, half expecting Diluc to change his mind at the last second, or decide he needs more time. Kaeya wouldn’t blame him either way.

The city is too loud for this time of night. He wishes it would go away.

“Kaeya?”

Kaeya twirls around, and standing on the sidewalk not even five steps away is Diluc. Casually dressed, dark trench coat, his vibrant hair pulled into a high ponytail. He hasn’t changed a bit.

Kaeya’s heart is trying to throttle him. “Hey, Diluc!” He waves, and feels like an idiot. “So, I… uh…” Thanks for coming? Why did you come? I’m sorry for ruining everything? I don’t deserve your forgiveness? Why are you here? Thank you for being here? 

Diluc stops at arm’s length, a forced complacency on his face. Kaeya hasn’t known him well enough in recent years to see through it. “You,” Diluc says, “look godawful.”

Kaeya laughs. “Do I, now? I did try, but it’s been a long past couple of days, you know, and—”

Diluc hugs him. 

Kaeya’s words die, and he forgets how to breathe.

Diluc’s arms are warm, his hold tight and familiar in spite of the years between them. It’s all familiar—Diluc’s eyes, Diluc’s voice, even his demeanor, even though Kaeya hasn’t seen or heard any of it in years. It feels… nostalgic. Warm nostalgia drenched over the ice in his chest.

He hugs his big brother back fiercely and tries not to cry.

It doesn’t last long enough—he isn’t sure it could ever—and Diluc pulls away, his hand lingering on Kaeya’s shoulder. Awkwardly, he pats Kaeya’s shoulder twice, and fumbles for words.

“We don’t have to talk,” Diluc eventually blurts, with enough air to say three times as much. “Let’s just get something to eat and sit a while, alright? You’re a mess.”

“I am.” Kaeya inhales, exhales. “Thank you. For being here.”

Diluc pats his shoulder some more, never completely meeting his eyes. “We’ll talk later.”

It sounds like a promise, and Kaeya is ready to believe it.

Chapter Text

[Venti 💚]
question

[Xiao 💙]
ifits about fight club the answer is still no

[Venti 💚]
omg you’re so mean
and anyway  it’s not about Fight Club! it was abt movies though do you have anything against lilo and stitch
stitch reminds me of you when youre angry

[Xiao 💙]
I sont knlw what lilo and stitch is but i resent that
dont know

[Venti 💚]
:( are you feeling okay?

[Xiao 💙]
head hurts

[Venti 💚]
aw i’m sorry
I don’t have to come over today if you don’t feel up to it
i can always pick another time

[Xiao 💙]
no don’t
dont pick another time
please come over

[Venti 💚]
only if you’re sure

[Xiao 💙]
i’m sure
bring whatever movie you want
actually

[Incoming Call - Xiao 💙]

Venti picks up, pinning the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he whisks a bowl of (attempted) brownie batter. “Hey, what’s up?”

“You don’t have to come over,” Xiao says. He sounds tired. “I… I might just end up sleeping through whatever movie we watch. I don’t want to waste your time.”

“Why would spending the day with you be a waste of my time?”

“I—” Venti tries to envision the expression on his face. By the time Xiao responds, Venti is pouring the brownie batter into a greased pan. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to be a downer while you’re here.”

“You’re sick, Xiao, not a downer,” Venti says. “It’s okay. Resting is good, anyway! I’ll pick some good movies to sleep through—nice long boring movies. Who knows, I might sleep through them, too.”

“It’s like you’re actively trying to be ridiculous.”

“Is it working?”

“Is it intentional?”

“Maybe!” Venti swings open the oven door and throws in the pan of brownies. Then he sets the timer and switches ears with his phone. “But maybe it’s also just part of my charm. Are you charmed, Xiao?”

Xiao groans. Venti giggles.

“Okay, but, really now,” Venti says, leaning back against the kitchen island, “if you just need to sleep today, I’m okay with that. I’ll even bring my school books if that’d help you relax. Fair warning, though, I might be too busy sleeping through the movie with you to get any homework done.”

“... If you insist.”

“I do!” Venti says, smiling. He knows Xiao can’t see the smile, but hopes he can hear it. “I’ll build a blanket fort and everything. Oh! And I’m making brownies for you and your roommates!”

“You’re cooking?”

“Baking, but close! I know what I’m doing, don’t worry. I followed a recipe this time.”

“Well. I’m excited to try them, I guess.” He doesn’t sound excited, and Venti thinks it’s just an act he’s playing up until he hears Xiao exhale a drawn, spent sigh. “I’m going to try and sleep off the headache before you get here. Talking’s making me dizzy.”

“Oh, of course,” Venti says, nodding. “Yeah, go get some sleep, Xiao. Text me when you’re ready for me to come over.”

“It doesn’t matter when you come over. I’ll just be on the couch, if you text me when you’re here I’ll get the door for you.”

“If you say so,” Venti says. “Sleep well, Xiao.”

“I will. Be safe on the way here.”

“Of course. See you soon!”

“See you.”

Xiao hangs up. 

The brownies are. 

Uh.

Chemically, they are brownies. He more or less burned them, but Bennett didn’t seem to think they were too far gone, so he had enough hope to pack them into tupperware, grab their apartment’s unopened case of vanilla ice cream to compensate and hopefully bury the charcoal and set out for Xiao’s place with a lying spring in his step and his computer bag slung around one shoulder.

It’ll be fine. The ice cream will make everything alright. He follows Xiao’s directions downtown, to a small apartment complex resting just on the outskirts of the city, near a market, pharmacy and residential suburb. He parks on the street, locks his car behind him and prances up the metal stairwell. 

He knocks thrice when he’s found the right door, then stands back and waits with his knees locked and hands clutching the plastic handles of the grocery bag. He hasn’t seen Xiao since he got home from the ER—or since they became partners (partners!), and the anticipation is eating him away.

He stands there for a full minute before remembering Xiao asked him to text. After setting the plastic bag down on the porch, he shuffles through his computer bag and yanks out his phone.

[Venti 💚]
ready or not

He picks up the bag again, and another minute later, Xiao opens the door.

Venti feels something swoop in his chest, twisting wildly against his ribs before sifting to vapor and dispersing. Xiao’s eyes are tired and his hair is a mess, but there’s color in his face, his gaze is alert and the sleeves of that yellow sunflower hoodie he always wears hides all evidence of blood draws and IVs and contrast dye. 

He looks like himself, and the relief strikes him so fervently that he wants to sob.

“Xiao!” Venti ropes him into a tight hug, ignoring the swing of his computer case and plastic bag. Xiao leans into him with a hum, hugging him back. “I woke you up, didn’t I?”

“It’s fine, I told you to,” Xiao says. Eventually, he pulls out of Venti’s arms and takes a step back.  “... You’re wearing those ribbons again.”

“Well, yeah!” Venti follows him over the threshold so he can pull the door shut, toeing out of his tennis shoes. The apartment is well-lit, blinds bundled away from the windows, and it smells like someone made blueberry muffins. “Orange isn’t a bad color, you just don’t wear it enough to be able to appreciate it. It smells really nice in here! Is someone baking?”

Xiao turns with a gesture and Venti follows him out of the entryway. “Childe made scones earlier.”

“Oh, that’s cool!” Ah. Venti feels silly about the brownies. His burnt charcoal cubes can’t compete with someone who knows what they’re doing. Should he have brought something more practical? Maybe a casserole dish after all? Xiao was just in the hospital... 

“Did your brownies turn out okay?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I brought them!” Venti nods, following Xiao into the living room. It’s hard to picture five people living here, given the modesty of the apartment and the current silence. “I don’t know if they’re any good, but I brought ice cream to bury the worst part of it.”

“You didn’t have to make anything.”

“I know, I wanted to.”

“Well.” Xiao stops at the couch and turns to face him, gesturing widely with one hand. “Uh… make yourself at home. I guess? It isn’t much, but, I mean…”

Venti looks around the apartment again, clearer now that his thoughts aren’t scattered. The small dining table has five chairs encamped around it, with three of the chairs looking like they were pulled out of a suite, the remaining two just simple black folding chairs. The couch is nice; the living room is small but comfortably furnished; a hallway leads back to what Venti assumes are the bedrooms; the kitchen is cramped but in an endearing way(? He’s still figuring that one out).

“I like it!” Venti decides, taking up the space next to Xiao on the couch. “It’s modest but homey.”

“Yeah, I like it too.” Xiao tucks into the arm of the couch, knees against his chest. “What movies did you end up bringing?”

“Oh!” Venti nods, unzipping his case and withdrawing the laptop. He sets the grocery bag on the table for later. “I couldn’t decide, so I just got a free trial on all the streaming services I could think of and figured we’d pick from there! Plus, I wasn’t sure if you had a DVD player.”

“Every streaming service? How many movies do you expect to watch?”

“I dunno, maybe one or two? But I wanted us to have options.”

Xiao keeps giving him that incredulous look, which isn’t doing anything for his self-esteem (it seemed like a good idea at the time!), but he eventually sighs. 

“Alright,” he says. “We’ll just have to make good use of all your free trials while they last. What did you wanna watch first?”

“Oh! Lilo and Stitch, if you’re okay with that one! I think you’ll really like it.”

Xiao falls asleep about a quarter of the way into the movie. Venti is a little disappointed, because he really wanted Xiao to see the movie and he does think Xiao would really like it, but it’s good for him to rest. He sleeps through the rest of the movie and Venti is just shifting to start another one, when Xiao stirs.

“Mmn— is it over already?” Xiao blinks tiredly, sitting up. 

“You slept through it,” Venti says, smiling, “but that’s okay! I was just gonna put on Doctor Who or something to have going on in the background, do you have any suggestions? Objections?”

“Doctor Who is fine.” Xiao settles back against Venti’s shoulder. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m so tired today.”

“It’s okay. You’ve had a long week.”

“Yeah.”

Venti starts the playback and settles back into the couch, leaning his cheek against Xiao’s head.

Absentmindedly, he reaches up to stroke Xiao’s hair. Xiao tenses.

“Oh, sorry!” Venti yanks back his hand. “I wasn’t thinking, I should have asked.”

“It’s fine,” Xiao says, still stiff as a plank. “I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Venti.”

“Okay, okay, just… let me know if you need me to stop.”

Xiao nods and Venti carefully settles his hand on Xiao’s head again, tracing his hairline lightly. Xiao is still tense, but he doesn’t tell Venti to stop and Venti lets himself run his fingers through Xiao’s hair. Minutes pass and Venti finds a rhythm with it, the crippling fear of messing this up finally ebbing away as he focuses on the laptop again and the sound of Xiao’s breathing. By the time the episode is over, the tension has completely drained from Xiao and he’s fast asleep against Venti’s side.

Venti has always loved Xiao. The swell of warmth in his chest is a familiar one.

But.

God. He really, really loves Xiao.

“I’m sorry I slept through everything.”

“Oh! No, that’s okay,” Venti says, head snapping up from his shoes. His voice overflows with sincerity, but Xiao still can’t help the guilt. He really had meant for today to go differently. “I know you’ve been tired. I’m glad you were able to sleep so much.”

Xiao rocks on his feet. “You could stay for dinner if you wanted, to make up for it.”

“Aw, thank you,” Venti says, “but I promised my housemates I’d help meal prep tonight, so I need to get back in a timely manner. But,” before Xiao can say anything, with his mouth or with his body language, Venti whips forward, “next time, I’ll come for dinner and bring a casserole dish for my rite of passage. Just text me what you and your housemates like and we’ll make it work!”

Xiao snorts. “I really won’t be able to talk you out of the rite of passage casserole dish, will I?”

“Not a chance,” Venti says, grinning. He adjusts the strap of his laptop case around his shoulder. “Really, though, thank you for today. It was good.”

Xiao sighs. Maybe it wouldn’t feel nearly as big a waste if he felt like the sleep accomplished anything, but he’s just as tired and achy as he was when he first closed his eyes. Still, Venti isn’t lying. Of that much he’s sure.

“Thanks,” Xiao says. “I… I enjoyed today, too. Thank you.”

Venti steps forward deliberately, and Xiao opens his arms to the hug. It’s tight, promising, and it’s hard to let go. Venti pulls out of it and gently bonks their foreheads together.

“So, see you later?”

Xiao nods. “I’ll be here.”

One final goodbye later, Xiao holds the door for him and Venti springs outside. No sooner than he’s made it down the first stairwell does his voice shoot back up again.

“Oh, Kaeya! Hi Kaeya!” 

Xiao jumps and leans out the door. Kaeya is mid-way through climbing the stairwell, donning his work uniform with a hand raised at Venti in a wave. A shy smile tops off the ensemble, steadier still when he eses Xiao and turns his wave to him instead.

“Heya,” Kaeya says. 

“Okay, I really need to run,” Venti says, too quickly, “but it was nice hanging out, Xiao! Good seeing you, Kaeya. Take it easy!” 

Venti sprints past Kaeya down the steps and flies across the sidewalk. Xiao nearly snorts. 

“Good to see you up,” Kaeya says.

Xiao nods, stepping back into the apartment and holding the door again. “You, too.” It feels like ages since he last saw Kaeya—he’d gotten home late last night after Xiao had already gone to bed, and left earlier than usual for work this morning before Xiao woke up. ALl things considered, he thinks Kaeya looks moderately okay. Better than he did in the ER.

“How did things go with your brother?” Xiao asks, shutting the door behind him.

“Ah. Well?” Kaeya chuckles without much noise, stepping out of his shoes and letting down his hair. “We didn’t actually talk, just stayed downtown long enough to grab dinner and coffee before he went back to the hotel.”

“Oh.” 

“But it wasn’t bad.” Kaeya tosses his keys onto the kitchen counter and opens one of the higher cabinets. “It was… really nice to see him again after so many years.”

“I’m really glad it went well,” Xiao says. 

Kaeya smiles, and this time it reaches his eyes. “Thanks. That means a lot. How’ve you been feeling today?” He returns to his granola bar. “You had Venti over?”
“Oh, yeah,” Xiao says, “we’re dating now.”

Kaeya chokes on his granola bar. “What?”

“Queerplatonicly, but you heard me.”

“How long has that been a thing!?”

“Nineteen hours. Maybe twenty.”

“Is that why he was over? Did I interrupt a date?”

“No, he just came over so we could watch movies and I slept the entire time.”

“God! Okay!” Kaeya’s smile is much wider now, still every bit as sincere. “I’m really happy for you guys, holy shit.”

“Thanks, he’s dead set on bringing us a casserole for dinner sometime.”

“Keeper.”

“I know.”

Xiao has just finished folding the load of laundry Aether left on his bed when his phone rings. It isn’t a number he recognizes, but he’s been answering all of his unknown callers lately just in case. He sets aside the hoodie mid-fold, swipes to answer and presses the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is Ming, I’m calling for Xiao Liu for neurology?”

Thank goodness he answered. He should really save the office’s number to his contacts. “Yeah, this is Xiao.”

“Hi, Xiao, I’m calling on behalf of your appointment this Monday. Our neurologist actually won’t be in the office that day, so I was calling to reschedule your appointment.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah, that’s fine.” It shouldn’t be hard to reschedule. Doctor appointments are all he has on his schedule until they get some of this sorted. “Yeah, we can reschedule, what day were you thinking?”

“Let me see… Well, it’s a little short notice, but we have an opening tomorrow at ten in the morning if that would work?”

Xiao’s heart jolts. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, yes.”

“U-Uhm, sure.” Why so soon? “That works.”

“Perfect, thank you. Can I have you verify your address and date of birth?”

Xiao recites it with minimal fumbling. He’s getting used to it.

“Alright, so you’re all set for tomorrow at ten in the morning. We’ll see you then!”

“Okay. Bye.”

Xiao hangs up and opens his messages.

[Xiao]
hey the neurologist had to reschedule
i’m sorry for the short notice but can you drive me tomorrow at 10 instead?

[Zhongli]
Oh of course
Why did they reschedule?

[Xiao]
the doctor isn’t going to be in monday

[Zhongli]
Ah
Yes, I can drive you

[Xiao]
thanks
sorry about that

[Zhongli]
It’s no trouble

Xiao takes a two hour nap.

Once the appointments start, they don’t stop.

Xiao feels like he’d barely stepped into the neurology office before they had him scheduled with three different offices, either for bloodwork or an MRI or a CT, or more consultations with different, more pin-point specialists. He didn’t know there were so many sub-genres of specialists within the specialist umbrella. 

His arm has never been stuck so many times. He gets so used to seeing his own blood that the once fearful dizziness fades into drained exhaustion. He nearly faints during one of the draws, though. Scared poor Childe, who’d been his driver that day. The drivers ebb and flow, too—he can’t remember which of his housemates took him to which appointment. He tries remembering the names of his doctors, but aside from his neurologist and PCP there are just too many of them, and he’s too frazzled during his appointments to store information that doesn’t immediately impact him.

The MRIs all come back. The CTs come back. His blood tests are inconsistent. They start him on supplements. His energy levels crumble. The crooks of his elbows are perpetually stuffed with bruises. No matter how many EEGs he undergoes, the doctors and nurses can never trigger a seizure and god, god, do they try. They try so hard and Xiao’s head aches to the point where he prays they’d be able to trigger one, just to make it stop. But every EEG ends on the same empty note and Xiao runs for the bathroom to cry just as soon as the electrodes are gone.

Venti visits often with baked goods of varying edibility and Xiao can’t look past the tired worry in his partner’s eyes, Venti’s desperation to ask questions clashing with Venti’s determination to cheer Xiao up, no matter what the cost. It’s frustrating and Xiao wants to tell him to stop, but doesn’t know how and he doesn’t want to break what few stable things he has left.

It isn’t just Venti. He isn’t blind to the way his roommates turn to him when he enters the room, how their gazes linger when he uses the table as a crutch to help him stand, or when he leans against the kitchen counter, as inconspicuous as he can. Or when he stumbles and their hands snap out to help almost instantaneously with his trip, like they’d been expecting it all along. He sees Kaeya’s exhaustion in the bruises under his eyes and the smiles that don’t reach them; Childe will still mess up his hair, but gentler than before; Aether somehow always knows when Xiao is trying to reach something from high up, because he zips over to grab it before Xiao can climb the stool. 

And, Zhongli. 

Xiao just wants to tell him to stop.

Sometimes the drives are short. Sometimes the drives are long. It doesn’t matter the duration because Xiao always ends up with a headache, no matter what, and some appointments leave him feeling so hollowed out he wonders if any of this is worth it.

He has a seizure the day before a read in with his neurologist (and of course it would happen the day after the doctors couldn’t trigger one for the EEG because, goddamnit), and resurfaces to Childe’s bright eyes and Zhongli’s twisted face. He sees them speak, but doesn’t hear it. Underneath his fingernails burn. His head hurts. He’s sick to his stomach without the energy to throw up. He leans on Childe for support, makes it to the couch before his knees give out and he sleeps restlessly. Zhongli is still at his side when he wakes up.

He’s so tired. 

He’s so tired and even after getting to every appointment, even after every specialist, the doctors can’t tell him anything conclusive. They tell him all of their theories, everything they’re looking into, which is more than what the ER did so at least they aren’t brushing him off, but they don’t know, after every evaluation they’ve put him through, and what’s the fucking point?

Then, without an appointment, Xiao receives a call from his neurologist. Not the neurology office, but his neurologist himself. He asks how soon Xiao can come in.

Xiao doesn’t remember the drive. Aether takes him—Zhongli still has to work and so does Kaeya, and Childe was restocking their pantry so Aether was the only one home when Xiao got the call. Aether takes him and, if he floors it on every yellow light, Xiao doesn’t say anything. And if he were to say something, it’d be thank-you.

Aether goes back with Xiao and the neurologist into one of the patient rooms. Xiao is half prepared to have electrodes plastered all over his skull, or maybe more needles in his arms. He’s prepared for his neurologist to tell him he’s dying. Aether keeps a hand on his shoulder.

Xiao’s neurologist steps into the room without a clipboard, without equipment, without the nurse coming in first for the pre-appointment check in.

“You don’t have to be alarmed. This isn’t a terminal diagnosis. But, I didn’t want to tell you over the phone or have a nurse do it for me. And I didn’t want you to have to wait for your next appointment.”

He takes a seat across from him and Aether and speaks, and Xiao tries to listen.

“We’ll schedule a follow-up in just a few days to discuss moving forward. I’ll get you a reference sheet—it’ll give you all the information you need and a couple more numbers to call. You can do your own searching, of course—I encourage it—but these are a couple well-respected offices to get you going. Alright?”

Chronic. 

It’s a tailspin, and the tailspin is so violent that the tailspin Xiao had been riding these past several weeks feels like a kiddy ride.

Several chronic illnesses. 

He isn’t dying. He should be grateful.

Lifestyle changes.

Treatment plan. 

Medication.

Xiao climbs into the backseat instead of the passenger seat, and Aether says nothing of it. Xiao’s arms constrict around his chest, the compression dizzying. The scenery out the windows as Aether drives is blurred and doubled. Xiao can’t bring his eyes into focus.

He should be grateful.

What is he going to tell Venti?

What is he going to tell Zhongli?

What is he going to tell Childe or Kaeya? 

What is he going to tell his boss?

Should he tell his parents?

They wouldn’t care, and he doesn’t care to tell them, but should he?

Aether hasn’t said anything. What does Aether think?

Xiao squeezes his chest and feels his heart pound. 

“Do you want to be alone? I can sit with you, I don’t mind.”

Xiao doesn’t remember being ushered up the stairs into their apartment, or the door closing behind them. He clocks back in when the silence sprawls, and Aether steps into his line of sight.

“Alone,” Xiao says.

Aether nods. “I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”

Xiao moves past him down the hall and into his and Zhongli’s bedroom. He shuts the door, walks across the room, lies facedown on his bed. His pounding head won’t let him forget. Nausea crawls around in his stomach.

Several chronic illnesses.

His phone buzzes. It isn’t until the fourth intermittent vibration that he registers what it is. He tugs it out of his pocket, rests his chin on his knuckles and squints. His eyes are dry.

[Venti 💚]
hey xiao !!
i was wondering
how do you feel abt cheesy pet names??
bc I thought of one for you but i dunno how you feel abt it so I wanted to ask first

Xiao digs his forehead into the top of his phone, chest full of the constantly buried need to scream. What is he going to tell Venti? What should he tell Venti? Venti deserves a partner who isn’t— broken, or who isn’t going to be constantly sick or dropping with seizures or fainting or sleeping or—

[Xiao 💙]
let me think about it

[Venti 💚]
okay! either way is fine so don’t be afraid to be honest :D
how are you feeling today?

[Xiao 💙]
really sick
please leave me alone
for now

[Venti 💚]
<3 I’m sorry you don’t feel well xiao, i’ll let you rest
let me know if you need anything ok?

[Xiao 💙]
kay

Xiao turns the phone off and presses silent tears into his blankets.

Then he turns his phone on again and makes a new group message. He could use the apartment’s group chat, but Childe is complaining about cream prices again and Xiao doesn’t want to kill their enthusiasm any more than he has or will. He adds Zhongli, Aether, Kaeya and Childe to the group.

[Xiao]
I’m not going to be able to say it to your faces. So I’m doing this instead.

This isn’t the right way to do it. There was a reason Xiao’s neurologist called him into the office to discuss it in person. But Xiao doesn’t want to look them in the eyes. He doesn’t want to see their reactions. Maybe it’s selfish. But he’s too tired, too angry and too sick of this and he can’t.

[Xiao]
my neurologist called me into the office today

It takes him nearly ten minutes to type out the message. He has to double check the reference sheet his doctor left him with, and google is actually helpful for once now that he knows the names for what’s going on, but he does eventually get everything written. Psyching himself up to send the message is another story altogether.

Maybe he should tell them in person. He’s just going to make things awkward this way.

But he doesn’t know when he’ll be able to get the words past his own mouth. Seeing them on the reference sheet, on-screen after he’s typed them, is different. He can still pretend they’re just needlessly complicated words instead of his life now.

He sends the message.

Then he turns his phone off again and twists his arms around his chest.

Someone is knocking on the door.

“Xiao?” The bedroom door, not the front door. Xiao curls into himself more, his head throbbing and his mouth fuzzy. There’s a rancid taste in the back of his throat that makes him want to gag. “Hey, buddy, you awake?”

Xiao forces himself to sit up. He doesn’t want to see Childe. He doesn’t want to see anyone. But guilt shoehorns its way in, squeezing between his ribs to his heart and he says, “It’s open.”

Childe enters slowly, a grocery bag dangling from his wrist. “Hey.”

Xiao sees it all over his face and wants to kick him out. But he couldn’t. “Hi.”

“I’ll leave in a sec,” Childe says, stepping into the room proper and rummaging through the grocery bag, “but—”

From the bag he pulls a small plush black cat with enormous, disproportionate eyes and lopsided ears. He holds it out and Xiao takes it with minimal coaxing, still feeling like his hands belong to someone else. The plush is inconceivably soft and stares at him with a small, sewn smile. Xiao stares back, stricken.

Oh.

Oh god.

Oh shit. 

He inhales, shuddering, and squeezes his eyes shut.

“But wait, wait, that’s not even the best part.”

Xiao opens his eyes, just as Childe dangles something between their faces. It’s a tiny version of the cat plush, on a black, string keyring. 

“It came with a baby one,” Childe says conspiratorially. He balances it on Xiao’s head. “Synergy.”

The absurdity of it diminishes the pressing tears threatening the corners of his eyes. Xiao scrubs his face, then scrambles to catch the tiny keychain when it tumbles off his head. “What— Why?”

“Well.” Childe rubs the back of his neck. “It was either that or flowers, but I didn’t know if you had any plant allergies. If you don’t want them—”

“No, no, I—” Xiao is sure he looks ridiculous, clutching the plush cats to his chest like they’re something worth stealing, but what the hell, “I do like them. I— thanks. Thank you.”

Childe ruffles his hair. “Have you checked your phone recently?”

“No.”

“Alright, so Zhongli was asking what you wanted for dinner, but I can pass along the message for you if you aren’t up to dealing with the group chat.”

Zhongli. Xiao really doesn’t want to face Zhongli. He’s put Zhongli through too much.

“Just… I don’t know,” Xiao says. “I probably won’t eat no matter what you guys end up having.”

“What about almond tofu? That’s pretty light, isn’t it? I know it worked out last time you were sick.”

The words Perfect, because I’m going to be sick all the time burst in uninvited, and he kicks them out. Childe doesn’t need that. “I want to sleep tonight,” Xiao says quietly. “I… I’m not ready to process it, I—I need to sleep.”

“Alright. But I’m going to bring you a water bottle.”

“Thanks.”

Childe messes up his hair. 

Xiao guzzles the entire water bottle before curling up with both cat plushies and trying to sleep. 

Xiao wakes up to the door clicking shut. He doesn’t move.

Zhongli is always careful of how he closes the door when Xiao has gone to bed, ever mindful of how light of a sleeper he is. Xiao doesn’t know why he woke up this time of all times, when he’s more exhausted than ever, but he forces his breathing to steady and keeps his eyes shut. 

He hears Zhongli’s footsteps, the sound of his shoulder bag being settled on the floor. Zhongli’s hand rests on his head, the touch light, carefully pushing back Xiao’s hair. Xiao feels vaguely like he’s being crushed, the guilt shearing at his chest. But then Zhongli lets go of a small, shuddering breath, and he withdraws his hand and steps away.

Xiao digs his forehead into his fists.

He dozes restlessly for a while, but the persisting ache in his head is more than he can manage. It doesn’t matter if he clutches his temples, buries himself under pillows and blankets, or even takes ibuprofen. The ache is there to stay and it’s nearly four in the morning, according to his phone, when he decides he can’t take it anymore and gets up.

Zhongli stayed miraculously asleep throughout all of Xiao’s tossing and turning. It might have woken him up on a normal night, but not after weeks of running himself down. He’s mostly good at hiding it, but Xiao knows he’s exhausted, and Zhongli’s lack of acknowledgement makes him want to punch a wall.

He carefully covers Zhongli with a blanket before creeping out of the room with his phone, cat keychain and astronomy workbook. If he can’t sleep it away, maybe he can find some reprisal getting lost in the stars.

He sets up on the couch with a clippable booklight and a bottle of cold non-caffeinated tea, and throws himself into studying. Normally he would have school today. His business management teacher and astronomy teacher have been understanding—he doesn’t know how that works, though, or if there’s a policy in place for that—but he misses the daily grind. He misses going to work and school. He misses the dogs he’d house-sit. He misses Xingqiu’s aversion to book bags and Razor’s simple but endearing bluntness and Chongyun’s straight-faced tomfoolery. He misses what he had before—

God, it’s been so long since he’s seen Xingqiu and Razor and Chongyun, and he’s kept them in the dark this whole time. How is he going to tell them? 

How is he going to tell Venti?

He digs his face into his hands, wishing he could physically do the same to his thoughts. When his breath steadies again, he looks through his fingers at his open textbook and the cat keychain from Childe.

He attaches the keychain to his phone case, picks a random chapter and reads. It keeps his mind busy well enough. He likes space and stars and what holds it all together. The sun rises and he stops to watch it, the light gradual enough it doesn’t burn his sensitive eyes or encourage the throb in his head. The ache has trickled down and spread across the base of his neck, too. It’s dizzying. 

Down the hall, he hears a door open and shut, and picks up Kaeya’s footsteps. 

It’s been so long since footsteps instinctually made him want to run and hide.

“Oh, hey.” Kaeya blinks at him, half asleep with hair a similar half-braided mess. “You’re… up early.”

Xiao’s heart sprints in his chest, his veins scorched in adrenaline. “You too.”

“Whatcha—are you reading?”

Xiao stamps back the urge to hurry off and lifts his textbook instead. “For school.” 

“Oh, neat.” Kaeya empties the old filter and snags a bag of coffee grounds out of the cabinet. “Are you still drinking coffee? I’ll make an extra cup.”

“I have tea, it’s fine.” Xiao doesn’t know if he’s allowed to keep drinking coffee or not, his neurologist didn’t say, but the thought of dousing himself in caffeine while he can feel his heartbeat in all of his joints is nauseating. “But thanks for the offer.”

“You bet.”

He can’t tell if Kaeya is forcing complacency or not. He’s sure they all read his messages—what happens if he can’t go back to work, even part time? His neurologist said there are plenty of people who live active and fulfilling lives, managing and coping with this— this, even in spite of bad days. But what if he can’t? What if that isn’t him? The first of the month is coming up soon, and he has enough saved to pay his part of it for at least a month after that, but what then? What if he can’t keep it up? He doesn’t want to be on the streets again, he doesn’t want to go back to his parents’ house, he doesn’t know what they would do if they got their hands on him again after he ran away. 

“Hey, you alright?”

Xiao snaps out of it. Kaeya is half turned to him, face pinched. “Yeah,” Xiao says, kicking himself. “Yeah, I’m fine, sorry.”

“You sure? You look kind of spacey.”

Xiao holds up his astronomy book again. Kaeya groans. It does the trick. Xiao pretends to keep reading and Kaeya takes the coffee with him to the bedroom.

Xiao is still on the couch when Kaeya leaves for work several hours later, hair pinned up and uniform fresh. He’s on time today, strangely enough, and takes his leave with none of the usual heist. It’s earlier than he usually leaves for work, too.

Xiao reads a little more.

His phone dings.

[ Group - “Stragglers” ]

[new york times could never]
I accidentally double brewed my coffee this morning and touched the face of eternity

[the only frets I have are on my violin]
tell her I said hi :D

[new york times could never]
she craves my demise

[chongyun]
xingqiu what are you talking about

[written on a poster board:]
Hope has fled

[the only frets I have are on my violin]
i honestly forgot xingqiu drank coffee i always thought of him as a tea person

[new york times could never]
Wait why
Oh I get it, it’s because I like books, isn’t it?
:) I will turn your violin strings into a bookmark

[the only frets I have are on my violin]
:) I will turn all of your limited edition signed copy hardcovers into paper mache

[written on a poster board:]
I’m picking up coffee on my way to campus
Does anyone want anything?
Except Xingqiu
Xingqiu has had enough coffee for this lifetime

[new york times could never]
I HAVE NOT

[the only frets I have are on my violin]
Ohhhh parting is such sweet sweet sorrow
and yes razor i would love a coffee!! :D

[new york times could never]
VENTI LEAVE MY BOOKS ALONE

[written on a poster board:]
Ok
@Extra gum aesthetic
You drink coffee don’t you?
I will smuggle it into your class

The adrenaline resurfaces. Xiao clenches his teeth and breathes through them against his roaring heart.

[Extra gum aesthetic]
I’m sick again so I won’t be at school today either
but thanks for offering

[new york times could never]
Wait, again? But you just got better.

Got better. Xiao doesn’t know what that means for him anymore.

[new york times could never]
Have you been to a doctor yet?
If you haven’t I would really suggest it

[chongyun]
^^^^
we could still bring you something from in town? after school

[written on a poster board:]
I’ll still happily smuggle coffee to you

[new york times could never]
Maybe coffee isn’t the best while you’re sick

[chongyun]
You had room to talk before you bought an espresso machine xingqiu

[new york times could never]
I ONLY USED THREE SHOTS THIS MORNING

Xiao presses his knees into his chest, trying to ignore the jitters rippling through his hands. How is he going to tell them? Is he going to tell them? He has to, he can’t leave them in the dark forever, they’re his friends and he loves them, he can’t just…

A notification from outside the group chat pops up at the top of his screen. It’s Venti.

[Venti 💚]
hey, I’m sorry you’re still feeling so sick. I’ll take notes for you again <3

[Xiao 💙]
Have you told them anything?

[Venti 💚]
?

Xiao fumbles his way through the texts. He has to rewrite it at least twice before it’s legible. 

[Xiao 💙]
Have you told Xingqiu Razor or Chongyun about the seizures or the ER or the ambulance or the doctor appointments or about how sick I’ve been

Am. 

[Venti 💚]
oh! no, I didn’t. I thought that was something you’d probably want to tell them yourself?
I know you want to get it sorted out first so not now, but maybe when you’ve gotten some more answers?
but yeah I haven’t told them anything. they’ve been really worried about you though, they always ask me how you’re doing bc they don’t want to bother you if you’re resting

Xiao digs his forehead into his knees, knuckles against his temples, hair in his face. 

He’s ruining it. Everything, one by one, he’s tearing it apart and leaving unsalvageables behind. He’s ruining everything.

[Xiao 💙]
tell them they don’t have to worry
it’s fine
you don’t have to take notes for me, either. I’ll catch up eventually.
have fun

[Venti 💚]
Oh, okay
is everything alright?

[Xiao 💙]
I said it’s fine

Venti tries to call him. Xiao declines without skipping a beat.

[Venti 💚]
What’s going on?

[Xiao 💙]
Nothing. I’m tired, I’m sick of doctor appointments and I’m not in the mood to talk

[Venti 💚]
I won’t push it
But I’m here if you need me

Xiao wants to tell him to leave. Xiao doesn’t want to hurt him anymore. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. He doesn’t want to hurt anymore, he’s so fucking tired of the pain in his head or the flutter of his heart and the aching in his joints and the persistent urge to throw up or cry or scream or punch something, he can’t. 

And, even after he puts his phone down and ignores his friends’ group chat he still can’t get away from it. Zhongli is up before long to get to work and Xiao sees the way he looks at him, the caution in his voice when he asks Xiao how he’s feeling, that flicker in his eyes when Xiao snaps that he’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine. 

Zhongli goes to work, and then Childe is up, and—his smile is real, it is, when he notices Xiao’s attached the keychain to his phone but Xiao still can’t help but feel like it’s pitying and he doesn’t fucking know why, because he knows Childe, and Childe isn’t pitying him. But he still wants to be alone. Childe ruffles his hair lightly, same as he always does, and Xiao nearly sees red. Childe offers him a bagel and Xiao refuses.

Aether does give Xiao space, but it’s a space Xiao can feel like walls, a worried, intentional space that’s every bit as overwhelming. The confusing, juxtaposing demands in his heart are so constricting and so bitter. The emotions he’d gotten so good at safeguarding in the past now feel so fragile and delicate and he wants to kill it. 

Childe asks him if he needs anything from in town (stop stop stop stop stop) and Xiao says no and Childe leaves for work that afternoon. Xiao is just as relieved the apartment is emptier as he is panicked for the same reason. Kaeya gets home and Xiao is still on the couch with his textbook. He goes to shower and Aether sets out for his work not too long after.

“Hey, Xiao,” Kaeya, “I was just about to try and sleep off work, do you need anything while I’m up?”

“No.” 

Xiao feels like he’s strangling a sentient bowstring, arrow notched and drawn to snapping. Kaeya just nods, spins on his heel and heads to bed.

Xiao stares out into space.

He reads some more. Hours pass.

The apartment is too quiet. Then the sun sets, and even with the lights on, it’s too dark.

He can hear every heartbeat, every breath. Too fast. Too shallow.

This apartment—small, endearing. Welcoming, home. With the mismatched dining tables, the curtains Childe and Kaeya hemmed with thrift-store results, the chipped paint on the kitchen cabinets and the coffee stains concentrated only around the area of the couch and low table. This is home. But it isn’t just his, and it can’t be if he’s—it can’t be if he’s damaged. He was already damaged when he came to them and he’d only just started to heal. Now those pieces are shattering and taking more with it and—

He can’t. He can’t, he can’t ruin their lives too. He can’t burden Zhongli any more than he already has, he can’t make Childe worry more, he can’t make Kaeya deepen his masks, he can’t make Aether have to pick up his slack. He can’t do it to them.

But if he crawls back to his parents—

The fight or flight instinct hits a crescendoing note and Xiao gets up, power walking from the couch down the hall. He snags his yellow hoodie from his room, shoving it over his head. He needs to—not be here. The convenience store down the street, the coffee shop several blocks away, in town. It doesn’t matter where, it doesn’t matter for how long, but he knows he can’t be here. He won’t.

He shoves his phone into his back pocket, ignoring the tremors striking across his skin. He can feel his heartbeat in the back of his throat, brite like a snare and with a taste like metal. His house keys are the last thing he grabs. He’ll need—no, he doesn’t need socks, he’ll just tie his trainers extra tight and go, he needs to go. 

“Xiao?”

He hadn’t heard the door open—or close, at that. But Zhongli is watching him from the entryway, his work bag still around his shoulder and shoes tied. Zhongli actually got home on time today instead of picking up an extra shift.

“Where are you off to?” Zhongli asks, genuine, but his voice is wrought with concern. 

Xiao meets his eyes for half a second before twisting his head away. “Taking a walk.” He can make it; if he just walks quickly and doesn’t make eye contact again, maybe Zhongli won’t stop him or ask questions. He snags his shoes and forces them on, ignoring the dig against his ankles. “I’ll be back.”

“Xiao, I—I’m not sure that’s wise,” Zhongli says. “There’s still so much we don’t know, and it’s late, you’d be walking alone—”

The dormant heat in his heart begins to seep up into his throat, spreading across his face and shoulders. “I’ll be fine, alright?” In broad but fast steps, he keeps his head down and storms toward the door. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

He’s so close, he just needs to open the door and run. 

Zhongli catches his wrist.

“Xiao, wait.”

The bowstring snaps.

“Let go of me!” Xiao wrenches away from him, his voice sharpened to a fine point. Zhongli lets go like he’d been burned. “I’m a goddamn adult, I don’t need you to tell me what I can and can’t do! I’m fully capable of making my own decisions, so stay out of it.”

He hears Zhongli take a breath. “Xiao. You can’t ask that of me.” Xiao’s fists tremble at his sides, nails biting bloody crescents into his palms. “I care too much to sit idly while you put yourself in harm’s way.”

“I never asked you to care,” Xiao barks, whipping up to meet Zhongli’s gaze. Zhongli’s face is vacant, a careful mask built around his features and Xiao feels an alarmingly strong push to tear it away. He’s forced Zhongli to mask his feelings for his sake, he’s put Zhongli here and he needs to go. “I don’t need you to fucking care about me, I need you to leave me alone.”

“If you're so adamant to throw my words to the wayside regarding your health,” Zhongli says, and Xiao can hear the undercurrent of whatever he’s hiding, something heavy, “then why bother making me your medical spokesperson?”

“Because it was you or my parents!” Xiao says. “You were the lesser of the two evils, that’s it. Stop reading into it and let me go!”

Zhongli's well-structured guard comes down.

For a moment, Xiao’s heart stops. He sees the twisted-up dawning as the words settle in the silence, the startle quickly melting into something hurt, something bleeding.

Xiao’s heart pounds again. 

“I—”

He didn’t mean it. No, no, he didn’t mean any of that. None of it was true, not a single word, it isn't true, why the fuck did he say that?

“I didn’t—I—” 

Zhongli isn’t perfect, he’s never been perfect and that isn’t going to change but he isn’t Xiao’s parents, he’s never hurt Xiao, he’s never manipulated him or put him down or belittled him or beat him or threatened him. He was the first person who reached out to Xiao, the first person who treated him not just with basic respect, but with kindness.

And Xiao just broke it. 

He took this precious thing, the first taste of kindness he'd ever known and he'd smashed it against the asphalt like it was worthless. 

He twists the doorknob.

“Xi— Xiao!”

Xiao is faster. The door flies open and he hits the stairwell running, tumbling over his own shoes until the sidewalk is underneath him and he guns it. He doesn’t know if Zhongli is following him. He doesn’t know if he can outrun Zhongli. He doesn’t care. Black crunches around the corners of his eyes and his shoes pound against the sidewalk, lungs too deprived and heart beating too fast.

Cars buzz beside him. The pedestrian crossing lights up and he takes the left across the road, stride withstanding and knees jolting at every slamming footfall. This happened once before—running, running, reaching for something he couldn’t see, away from something he could never cleanly escape. That was just before Zhongli found him. 

Xiao runs past the convenience store, past the pharmacy. The lights bleed into his skull, every shadow palpable, acid in the base of his throat.

He’d stopped by the convenience store after running away from his parents. He’d bought a canned coffee and a bag of sunflower seeds. He’d been wearing the same hoodie then as he is now—yellow, with the sunflowers. Not his favorite hoodie. Not the most comforting. It survived a lot with him.

It’s cold tonight, and his chest is hot, and his lungs can’t refill. 

He remembers his father’s eyes, gnarled hands gripping him by the face. His mother’s voice, sing-songy like a Siren, sharp smile and eyes without light. Her nails in his arm. Being thrown against a hardwood floor. Bruises the color of coal.

The gentle eyes of a then-stranger, carefully steadying him by the shoulders, asking if he needed help.

Xiao runs until he can’t run anymore and he collapses just outside the old 24-hour diner, knees pressed into the asphalt, pins and needles stinging all over. His fingers twist into his hair and pull. He barely feels it.

“What—” Xiao pants, heaving, “what is wrong with me?”

His voice is already broken, and he cries until it’s gone.

Missed calls from Zhongli. Missed calls from Kaeya. Missed calls from Childe. Missed calls from Aether. Missed calls from Venti. Slew of messages. Scrolling past, silencing, muting. Scrolling. Dialing. 

Ringing once. Ringing twice.

“Hello? Xiao?”

Chest tight, can’t breathe, throat sanded down to ribbons. “Ch-Chongyun.”

“Xiao? Xiao, what happened? You sound horrible.”

 “C-Can you c— Can you come pick me up?”

“Yeah—Yeah, I can, where are you?”

Chapter Text

It’s been raining for a while by the time Chongyun pulls up, and Xiao is soaked and shivering. 

He gets to his feet at the sight of Chongyun’s car, wincing when water squelches from his shoes. Maybe he should’ve gone into the diner after he knew Chongyun was picking him up. Before he can step to the curb, Chongyun has reached across and popped the passenger door open, gesturing for him to hop in. Xiao doesn’t keep him waiting.

He shuts the door behind him with a shiver and sinks back into the seat. He probably— no, he definitely should turn and look Chongyun in the eyes, thank him, but he’d only snapped at Zhongli after failing to cope with the worry on his face. Xiao doesn’t trust himself.

Chongyun reaches forward to crank a dial, then the heat comes on full blast. Xiao shivers again and breathes into his hands.

“Is that better?” Chongyun asks.

Xiao nods. He hears Chongyun drum the steering wheel.

“So, I was thinking you could come over to my place for a bit?” Chongyun says. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you need somewhere to go, right?”

Xiao presses both hands over his mouth and nods again. 

“Right.” Chongyun shifts gears and releases the brake. “Is it okay if Xingqiu is there? We were studying together when you called, but I know he wouldn’t mind heading home if I asked him.”

“I don’t mind,” Xiao croaks. He’s so sick of his voice sounding like that. “It’s fine.”

Xingqiu can be a little too nosy for Xiao sometimes, but he’s level-headed and knows when to stop. Besides, if he’s already at Chongyun’s place Xiao doesn’t want to be the reason why he has to leave.

Chongyun pulls away from the curb and starts down the street. The windshield wipers squeak. Xiao rests his chin against his knuckles and watches drops of rain stroll down the window.

“Thanks for coming,” Xiao manages.

Chongyun hums. “I’m glad you reached out.”

Xiao keeps his eyes trained on the passing city.

“Xiao? Xiao.”

Xiao comes back around to find the concerned faces of Xingqiu and Chongyun and the gentle fairy lights of Chongyun’s bedroom. He doesn’t like that he zoned long enough to have worried them. Or even that they noticed at all.

“It’s your turn,” Xingqiu says.

They’ve been in Chongyun’s bedroom for Xiao doesn’t know how long, sitting in a small circle on the carpet with a deck of UNO cards. Which, Xiao almost wants to laugh, and he’s not sure why—he can’t scarcely feel the weight of his hand of cards, his fingers halfway unresponsive and his heart pulsing through them.

Xiao plays an appropriate card. Then Xingqiu plays a card. Chongyun plays another, and then Xiao takes his turn again. 

He had to mute Zhongli’s contact after the nth call. He’ll have to mute Childe next if his phone doesn’t stop buzzing. Xiao hasn’t dared to look at it since before Xingqiu broke out the cards.

“Xiao.”

It’s his turn again. He uses up his only wild card just because it’s the easiest thing to play.

“Xiao.” Chongyun puts his cards down, face-up. “You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to tell us, but. Just. Xiao, are you okay?”

“Are you okay,” Xingqiu punctuates. His cards are down too, and Xiao didn’t even see him move. “That’s all we need to know.”

“I—” Nausea roils around his stomach and his head pounds, the adrenaline hiking up to a height he can’t kill. He wants to run again, wants to run and never stop, but there’s nowhere to go, nowhere to hide—

He stands so abruptly that it makes his head spin. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Oh—yeah,” Chongyun points, “it’s, down the hall to the lef—”

“Thank you.”

Xiao makes it there just in time to throw up.

There’s a water bottle and small paper plate of saltine crackers outside the door when he finally scrapes himself off the bathroom floor. It should be more mortifying than it is that they heard him have a breakdown. They might’ve even just followed him in the first place because they were afraid he was running off (not that it hadn’t crossed his mind, of course, so he can’t blame them). He wonders what they think is wrong with him. He doesn’t want them to think he’s broken, but—well, maybe they wouldn’t be wrong. 

His phone rings once, then twice, and with a frustrated half-sob he tears it from his pocket and declines Childe’s call. His screen is flooded with missed calls and texts—the majority of them are Zhongli’s, but there’s a distressing amount from Aether, too, and Childe. One or two from Kaeya. A handful from Venti. The tiny cat keychain Childe gave him still dangles from the corner and Xiao doesn’t feel like he deserves it. 

Xiao shuts his phone off. He tries to quell the migraine pooling behind his eyes until he has the strength to stand. 

Chongyun and Xingqiu swipe their cards back into their hands as Xiao returns to the room, and Xingqiu pretends to have been in the middle of playing one, like they’d kept the game going the whole time Xiao was gone. The feigned normality hits him in a confusing combination of comforted and infuriated, and the anger rolls in Xiao for half a second before writhing into guilt and becoming a lump in his throat. He can’t swallow it.

“Hey,” Xingqiu says with a lulling smile. It softens the shrapnel buried in Xiao’s chest, just enough to breathe again. “Sorry about that.”

Xiao nods. His knees are about to buckle, but he feels a strange pressure not to sit down.

“We weren’t trying to overwhelm you, we’re just concerned,” Chongyun says. “If you aren’t ready to talk about it, that’s okay. We won’t push it.” 

Xiao nods again, stiffly. It isn’t fair of him to do this to them, barge into their night kicking and screaming without explanation, but even thinking about it himself sends his stomach into his throat again. “I…”

Xingqiu scoots closer to Chongyun and pats the open space at his side. Xiao takes the offer slowly, and spots dimple his vision the instant he’s sat down.

He picks up his cards again. Chongyun and Xingqiu take the hint and take their turns. He’s grateful.

“Have you looked at any of the Business Management homework yet?” Xingqiu puts down a card after Xiao. “Venti’s been freaking out over it, I’m surprised he hasn’t texted you to yell yet. Unless he has and he’s annoyed enough to text us both about it.”

Xiao shakes his head. He studies the frayed corner of Xingqiu’s card until it disappears under Chongyun’s, and Xiao takes his turn.

“I’ve heard astronomy has been fun, though,” Chongyun says. “So, I suppose that could be a silver lining?”

“A saving grace,” Xingqiu murmurs, scowling at his cards. “Crap.” He draws two from the deck, playing the second. “Take it away, Chongyun.”

As the cards play and the fairy lights twinkle, Chongyun and Xingqiu chat about nonsense. They talk about school. Xingqiu goes off on a tangent about baking. Xiao tries to focus, but all he can see is Zhongli’s stricken face, and his phone sits dead in his pocket like a brick. He needs to fix this. His heart is going too fast, the cards in his trembling hands suddenly blurred, the colors smearing together. He.

Shit, he hadn’t even thought about what would happen if he had a seizure in front of Chongyun and Xingqiu. They don’t even know he’d been in the ER (twice now, twice he’s been in the ER). He can’t put them through it, he can’t do that to them, what the fuck was he thinking?

“Xiao?”

His heart drums against his ribs, words clotting in his throat while his lungs turn to stone. He manages to nod, because he’s tired of worrying the people he cares about, but the air is stiff and his muscles have adhered to his bones. He needs to fix this. He needs to fix this.

“Xiao, hey.” Chongyun moves into his space and grips his shoulder. Xiao can’t even force himself to flinch away. “Are you okay?”

Xiao shakes his head.

Chongyun pulls him into a hug full of promise and uncertainty, and. 

Xiao can’t return it. His body isn’t even responding to him enough to let him sink into it, or accept it now that this nightmare has overwhelmed him. But he hopes Chongyun doesn’t pull away. 

Chongyun doesn’t. Instead, he brings his arms around Xiao’s shoulders with tender but steadfast confidence. Xiao digs his fingernails into the carpet, straining against the lungs that won’t move and his aching heart. He’s out of tears, but his dry eyes burn anyway with a vibrant, scorching heat he doesn’t know how to quell.

Chongyun squeezes him with gentle consideration. Xingqiu’s hand comes to rest over his knuckles. They sit with him, just like that, until Xiao can breathe again and musters the strength to pull away. Chongyun lets him go, but leaves a hand on Xiao’s shoulder, and gives him a firm look that leaves no room for lying.

“Did that help any?” Chongun asks.

Xiao nods, shaking. “Thank you.”

“Xiao,” Xingqiu says to him, pressing against his fingers with his own, “Venti’s been texting me asking if we know where you are. I haven’t said anything yet, but he only wants to know if you’re safe.”

It doesn’t relight Xiao’s panic or quicken his heart. He sucks in a sharp breath, but, no emotion accompanies it. He’s either too drained or too tired of trying to hide. He didn’t notice the emptiness in his gut before, but now he does and he misses his partner. He misses a lot of things he used to have, but, missing Venti is the most urgent.

“Do you want me to text him for you?” Xingqiu offers. “I wouldn’t mind—”

Xiao shakes his head. “No, I’ll… I’ll call him. It’s okay.” As much as he appreciates the help and he doesn’t know where he’d be without them, he broke these pieces, and it’s his responsibility to pick them up again.

Xiao reboots his phone and gets a foot beneath him. “I’ll just step out, and—”

Xingqiu grabs Chongyun by the wrist, dragging him across and out of the room. With a smile, Xingqiu shuts the bedroom door behind them and leaves Xiao alone with his phone. 

That’s… that’s that, then. Unnecessary, because Xiao really wouldn’t have minded stepping out, but anyway.

Xiao steels himself over Venti’s number, doesn’t let himself think, and then calls.

He barely hears the beginning of the ring before it’s cut off, and then there’s a rustle, and then Venti’s frantic voice. “Xiao, Xiao? You’re there aren’t you?”

Warmth explodes in Xiao’s chest like a firecracker. He stifles it, just like he stifles the once uncharacteristic threat of bursting into tears. “Yeah, I. Venti—”

“You don’t have to explain, you don’t have to tell me anything, just—are you safe? Are you hurt? Please, please just tell me you’re safe.” 

“I am,” Xiao says. He should have thought sooner, how his actions would affect the people who care about him. Guilt seeps up into his throat. “I’m, I’m with Chongyun and Xingqiu, I’m okay. I’m safe.” 

“Okay. Oh, my god, okay. Oh my god.” Venti laughs, high-pitched and full of bubbly hysteria. Xiao has never heard him make that sound before. “Your housemates, they—I don’t even know how they got my number, they just said you ran off, they didn’t know where you’d gone and they thought maybe you’d come to me, I…—you need to tell them you’re okay, they’re really worried, Xiao.” 

Xiao doesn’t want to, but that wouldn’t be fair. Push them away, run away—they’ve already decided they care, and he cares about them too. He can’t pretend he doesn’t know it or trick himself into thinking storming off would be enough to change that. “I’ll call them, I promise.”

“Okay. Good, yeah, just… I’m sorry, do you want me there? If you don’t want to see me I get it.”

“I—I do. But. Just. Check with Chongyun and Xingqiu first.” He couldn’t imagine they’d say no, but he also can’t stomach the thought of putting them out any more because of him.

“Okay,” Venti says, his voice leagues more stable. “And, call your housemates. If you don’t I will.” 

“I’ll call them as soon as I’m off the phone with you.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a minute, Xiao.”

Xiao hangs up and holds his phone between his hands. He has more missed calls than before, by a margin enough that he knows without recalling the exact number it’d been when he turned it off. He tries to picture the state he’d put his family in, but he’s just half a thought deep when it swells to overwhelming, and he chooses Kaeya and calls.

Like Venti, Kaeya also cuts the first ring off. 

“Are you safe?”

Kaeya’s voice is hurried and wrought with unveiled fear, but solidly unwavering, and Xiao knows he made the right choice.

“I’m safe, I’m with some friends from college,” Xiao says. He twists his shoelace around his thumb. “I’m not hurt. I’m… I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, there’ll be time for that later, I’m glad you’re safe. Where are you? You’re with friends?”

“Chongyun and Xingqiu,” Xiao says, “you haven’t met them, I don’t think. And Venti is on his way. I… I don’t know if I’m going to come home tonight.”

“Alright, that’s good to know. Okay. Do not run off like that again.”

“I won’t.” His thumb is starting to turn purple, so he lets it go and laces his index finger instead. “Are the… where’s everyone else? Are they with you?”

   He hears Kaeya let go of a breath. “They’re out looking for you, I’m about to text them.”

“Oh. And—you’re…?”

“I stayed behind in case you came back. But you said you aren’t coming back tonight? You’re staying with some college friends.”

“Y, Yeah…”

“Okay.” Crackling, shifting, a heaving breath. “Xiao, listen. I… I get it, alright? Not the medical shit, but—I know sometimes you just need your space, and that’s fine. But I don’t think that’s why you ran.”

Xiao clamps down on the phone. “Kaeya—” Kaeya isn’t wholly wrong. Xiao wanted to go for a walk just for some fresh air and an excuse to clear his head on his own terms, but he wouldn’t have run if he hadn’t lashed out at Zhongli. He ran because he didn’t want to make things worse.

Of course, he made it worse by running. He should have stayed put and kept his mouth shut.

But it was so easy to run. The temptation to do it again is frighteningly strong.

“I haven’t sent the text to the others yet,” Kaeya says. “Do you want to talk?”

“It’s late,” Xiao croaks. “You have work tomorrow.”

“Is that you trying to run again?” Kaeya chuckles gently, his voice wet. “I know all the tricks, kiddo. If you don’t wanna talk, I’ll leave it alone. But don’t run away again.” 

“I—” Xiao clutches the phone tighter. He feels his heart throb against his knees, abruptly too fast and too heavy. “I… I think I ruined everything, Kaeya.”

“I’m grabbing my car keys now, alright? Can you send me the address?”

Xiao texts it over, then presses the phone to his ear again. “You should get it any second.”

“Solid, alright.” On Kaeya’s end, he hears a door open and close. “Do you want me to stay on the phone with you until I get there?”

“Won’t you be driving?”

“Speakerphone.”

“Sure.”

Kaeya stays with him silently on the line. Xiao counts the minutes.

Xiao has never noticed so many details about Kaeya’s car before. It’s small, low to the ground, shadowy black with a considerable amount of dents and parts where the paint was scratched to hell, and then other parts that are polished like he’d been paid to do it. Xiao hops down the porch and takes forced steps across the driveway toward the curb. The skin of his heels have been rubbed raw. 

He steels himself, pops the passenger door open and slides into the seat. Despite being much calmer, he can’t find it in him to lift his head.

“Hey.” Kaeya shifts the car into park and cuts the engine. The silence rushes Xiao’s ears with all the intensity of a waterfall. “What’s going on?”

Without warning, words tear their way up Xiao’s throat like bile. “I fucked up.”

Kaeya doesn’t say anything.

“I didn’t think,” Xiao blurts, “I wasn’t thinking, I was just—I thought I was just overwhelmed, but I don’t know what—I was overwhelmed, and I took it out on Zhongli and said a lot of things I shouldn’t have said, and—I know I hurt him, I really hurt him, but I don’t know how to—I don’t know how to make it right, or where to start, or— fuck, what do I do? What do I do, Kaeya?”

Kaeya stays still. Xiao waits with his arms twisted around his stomach and his heart in his mouth. The car is too quiet. The night is too dark.

At long last, he hears Kaeya inhale. “You can’t take it back,” Kaeya says. “If you’re only rushing into this to ‘make things right again’, don’t. You’re just going to make it worse.”

Xiao pulls his hair, frustration ironing into anger before he can reign it in. He hates how little he’s able to control when he used to be so good at keeping everything snuffed. “I know, but, how do I—”

“Xiao, listen. Listen to me.”

Xiao shuts his mouth. Kaeya leans into the steering wheel and gazes out the windshield, longing and forlorning welding together so smoothly Xiao can’t pick apart which is which. 

“This is… I’m going to get turned around a lot,” Kaeya says. “I’ve, I’ve never told anyone this story out loud and I don’t know how to put my thoughts in the right order, just… bear with me. I swear it’ll make sense why I’m telling you by the end.”

Xiao nods. Kaeya takes a long breath.

“... I was adopted,” Kaeya says. “My birth parents—ah, well, that’s not the point. After I was adopted, Diluc—my brother, sorry—we hit it off like you wouldn’t believe. He’d lost his mom a couple years before I came into the picture, so we were able to relate to each other even if our losses were different. Our father was a busy man, and we could go weeks at a time without seeing him, but he always made up for it where he could. He did whatever he could to make sure we knew how much he loved us.”

Kaeya has never opened up before about himself or his family. Even his expression is uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“I didn’t think you and your brother were on good terms,” Xiao says cautiously. 

Kaeya inhales through his teeth. “Our father died.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” Kaeya chuckles shakily, adjusting his hold on the wheel. “Had a heart attack in his sleep, and that was it. Diluc and I were adults by then—he was nineteen, I’d just turned eighteen—but we were still living at home helping out with the business. We thought it was out of character for him to sleep in so long. Then Diluc couldn’t wake him up.”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s not enough, but it’s all Xiao knows how to say. Kaeya grips the wheel tight.

“Thank you.” Another pause, another breath. “I don’t know why that’s what did it,” Kaeya goes on, heaviness anchoring his words. “Loss was the thing that brought us together, but this time, something was—I don’t know. We were older, we’d already been through it and this was a kick to the teeth. So, we took it out on each other. I knew how to push his buttons and he knew how to push back. Our father’s family friends at the business tried telling us that we’d end up doing something we regretted, and that we were all each other had anymore—which. I mean, they weren’t wrong. But they were wasting their breath.”

Kaeya runs a hand through his hair, and he sighs. Xiao wants to say something, but can’t.

“It went on like that for weeks before finally coming to a head,” Kaeya says. “I said a lot of stupid shit I shouldn’t have about him and Dad. I blamed him for… god, I blamed him for everything. And then I packed a bag and left him behind.”

It hits Xiao like a sledgehammer to the cranium, and rocks hit his stomach. 

“I’m not proud of it,” Kaeya goes on, his voice picking up, “but in hindsight maybe it was mercy for him that I was hot-headed enough to get out and leave him alone. I just would’ve done more damage the longer I stayed there. So, yeah. I lied to you guys about my surname. It’s Ragnvindr, not Alberitch. You know. Legally. But that’s not the point either. You get what I’m saying, don’t you? You understand.”

Xiao’s tongue is thick. “I…”

“I get it,” Kaeya says. “I won’t ask you for details, even if I have a few half-decent guesses. I won’t ask you what you said, either. But you can’t play fix-it here. You have to apologize and own up to it, but also let the person hurt if that’s what they need.”

“Is that what happened with your brother?”

“My brother and I…” Kaeya sighs. “We have a long way to go. I... really hurt him. A lot. But I was also stupid immature about it, didn’t listen to anyone and convinced myself I was in the right. You’re already handling  it better than I did, reaching out.”

Xiao tucks everything away for safekeeping, his head spinning a little. “I just want things to go back to normal,” Xiao says, half wishing Kaeya wouldn’t hear him. “I want to be normal.”

“I know. I know.” Kaeya sighs. “You’re only so big a person, Xiao. The world’s full of shit bigger than we are. But you want to move forward, right? It’ll be okay.”

“Zhongli didn’t deserve it,” Xiao says. “I wouldn’t blame him if he—if he didn’t forgive me.”

Kaeya laughs, and if it’d been anyone else Xiao would have felt mocked, but with Kaeya, he understands. “Well.” Kaeya smiles, and it’s all too familiar. “You don’t get to choose for him. Ah.” Kaeya does a double-take, twisting to look over his shoulder. “There’s the boyfriend.” 

Xiao whips around, just in time to watch headlights go dark and Venti swing himself out of his sedan, hair twisted back with a single hairstick and phone up by his ear. He kicks the door shut, and not a moment later Xiao’s phone rings. Predictably, it’s Venti.

Xiao swallows the lump in his throat. “I—I should, you know.”

“Yeah.” Kaeya smiles sincerely. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Uh—yeah.” Xiao nods, scrubbing at his eyes one more time with the back of his hand. “Yeah, I’ll be okay. Um. Thanks, for opening up to me.”

“Oh, ah.” Kaeya laughs. “Sure thing. Gotta use my dumbass interpersonal relationship instability for something, right?”

“I’m glad you and Diluc have been reconnecting.”

“I—yeah.” Kaeya’s shoulders slacken. “Yeah. Thanks. Venti’s calling you again.”

“He is,” Xiao says, shoving his phone in his pocket and grappling the door handle. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Alright. Let me know if you need anything before then.”

“I will.”

“Have you told your friends yet?”

“What?”

“Have you talked to them at all about what’s going on with your health?”

Xiao freezes. Obviously he’s thought about it, but never in a train of thought that ended with him actually saying it. “I… no. No, I haven’t.”

“Alright. I know where your head is right now,” Kaeya says, “and you wanna fix things with Zhongli, but. You’re going through a lot of heavy shit right now. Let them support you.”

“I—”

“Ultimately, whether you tell them now or ten years from now is up to you,” Kaeya cuts in, “but I think it should be now. Get some of it out in the open. Clear your head. If you were comfortable enough to come to them, they must be good people, and I’m sure they care. Tell them.”

“I…” Xiao waits, the thoughts spiraling airily through his head without sticking. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good luck.”

“Yeah—yeah, you too.” 

Xiao lets himself out into the cool night air, shutting the door behind him. Kaeya pulls away and his car disappears around the bend. 

“Xiao? Xiao!”

Well.

He turns to face Venti, but keeps his eyes on the cement. “Venti, I’m—”

Venti just about bodyslams him, arms snaking around Xiao’s and holding fast. Xiao melts into it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, muffled in Venti’s shoulder. “I—”

Venti doesn’t know about Xiao’s diagnosis yet. The thought of explaining it hikes up some of that tunnel-vision panic again.

Venti withdraws to put his hands on Xiao’s shoulders. “Let’s go inside and sit down, okay?” 

Unable to find the right words and afraid of trying too hard, Xiao nods, and Venti leads him up the driveway and through the front door of Chongyun’s family home. 

[Xiao]
I’m staying with some college friends tonight
I’m okay

It seems like the right thing to say.

[Xiao]
I’m sorry for storming off.
I’m sorry I made you worry.
I’ll be back tomorrow. I’m safe and I’ll be okay tonight.

Venti squeezes his hand. Xiao exhales, because his lungs hurt, and puts his phone down on the bed beside him. His housemates will be responding soon, but he's so tired. He'll just, do what he can to catch up with them tomorrow and apologize properly at the apartment. “Thanks.”

Venti nods. Chongyun and Xingqiu are sitting on either side of them on the edge of Chongyun’s bed, quiet but attentive. Xiao’s hands are sweaty. His head swims.

“Xiao.” Venti’s voice is even. “What’s going on?”

Xiao doesn’t deserve this. Chongyun’s hospitality, Xingqiu’s patience, Venti’s care. Even that Kaeya came to meet him and talk with him. Any of this. He doesn’t deserve this after what he did. 

But they do deserve an explanation. And, beyond that—maybe, just maybe, Kaeya was right. Maybe if he’s able to get this much off his chest, he’ll have more space there to start repairing things with Zhongli. Maybe if he accepts the support now he’ll be able to get back on his feet. Maybe that isn’t wrong. Maybe he can still make this right.

The air is too thin to breathe.

Xiao breathes in anyway and tries to explain. 

He doesn’t remember if he got the terminology down, but that’s less because he’s nervous and more that it’s something that’ll just come with time. Venti grasps his hand the whole time, giving his fingers encouraging squeezes whenever his voice trembles without him noticing. They let him talk until his voice is scrapped and his eyes are full of tears, the dense pressure in his chest finally settling on his heart so completely that he feels it begin to snap in half. He tells them about the ER, about the seizures. He tells them everything.

“I know this complicates things,” Xiao hears himself tune back in, looking at hands that don’t feel like his, watching Venti’s thumb stroke over his knuckles. “But I still—I still want to be your friend. Selfishly. I want to be a part of your life, and I want you in my life, and I—”

I don’t want to lose you

He decides not to say that. Probably couldn’t force those words out anyway. 

“I know this does change things,” Xiao says, shoving through the words even as his voice shatters, “but I don’t want it to change, I don’t want you to treat me differently or think about me differently. I’m—I’m still—” 

Is he? 

Is he still himself?

He hasn’t felt like himself since Zhongli took him to the ER for the first time.

He’s fought with his housemates before, and some of it’s been petty, but he’s never snapped the way he snapped at Zhongli. He never ran before. He never thought about going back to his parents. He doesn’t feel like himself. He wouldn’t blame Chongyun or Xingqiu or Venti for hating whatever person he’s turning into.

“Xiao.” 

It’s Xingqiu who speaks first, and his voice is grounded.

“This is a change,” Xingqiu says. “But you’re still you.”

It breaks him.

And he clutches Venti’s hand to his chest with both arms, folding inward on himself until he feels the tips of his hair tickle his knees and he’s suffocating. His lungs fill with water. His head screams. He sobs, tears muddying his face and blurring his mind, and everything shifts and everything is okay and everything hurts.

He feels Xingqiu press into his shoulder, his arms coming around Xiao’s. Then Chongyun leans into his back and hugs him tight. Venti has been hugging him for a while, and he just didn’t notice before. Their warmth is so, so real, and Xiao chokes on it and cries.

“Thank you for telling us,” Chongyun says, close to his ear. “We’re here, we’re here with you.”

“It’s okay,” Venti promises, bending down and pressing his forehead into Xiao’s temple. “You’re okay, Xiao. You’re okay.”

Xiao sobs.

It’s an odd sort of contentment, a feeling that contradicts the constrictions in his chest and the gross, heaving sobs and the tears spilling down his cheeks and nose. Venti’s hand is warm and real. Chongyun and Xingqiu are warm and real. Xiao feels his heartbeat, and it’s fast and warm and real.

Xiao wants to stay here forever.

Unfortunately, his skin eventually begins to prickle at the sheer amount of physical touch, he runs out of tears and manages to catch his breath. Venti is the first to notice his discomfort, of course, and so is also the first to pull away. Chongyun and Xingqiu follow his lead.

“Thank you,” Xiao rasps. He’s cried enough for one night; his poor voice doesn’t sound like his again and he’d like for that to stop. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad you told us,” Xingqiu says. He pulls his legs up onto the bed with him and crosses them. “How can we best support you in all this? Is there anything we can do? Anything we should know?”

Xiao wipes his face on his sleeve. “I don’t know yet. It’s… it’s new. I barely know how to deal with it myself.” He glances up to find Venti’s face. His eyes are red like he’d been crying, too, but he’s still more put together about it than Xiao. Who would have thought they’d see the day. “Venti, about, about us, I… do you still...”

Venti smiles at him with a sort of helpless adoration that makes Xiao’s stomach flip. “Nothing’s changed, Xiao.”

Xiao feels weeks worth of anxiety slap off his shoulders. “Okay.” 

“Wait.” Chongyun looks back and forth between them. “I— wait.”

“Oh?” Xingqiu lurches at Venti. “Oh? Did I hear an ‘us’?”

“Oh!” Venti brightens and whips back toward Xiao. “Is it okay if I tell them?”

Xiao had hoped to not have too many impactful conversations tonight, but Venti looks excited and Xiao can’t bear to kill that. “Go ahead.”

Venti takes off. “Okay!” he chirps, clapping his hands together. 

Chongyun and Xingqiu lean in and Xiao leans away as Venti’s voice sings through the air, curling onto his side on the bed and pressing a fist to his temple. He’s exhausted and done with physical contact for the day and he’s grateful they all seem to understand that.

“WHAT!?”

“Dating!? Dating!”

“Wait, how long have you two been dating?”

“Platonically dating!” Venti clarifies. Xiao shuts his eyes, but he can still feel Venti’s excited vibrations from here. He’s practically buzzing. “And it’s only been for a little while, so it’s not super public yet.”

“I don’t believe it! Why are we just hearing about this now? We’ve been wanting you two to date for months!”

“Expecting it,” Chongyun says, still shell-shocked despite the claim that they had indeed been expecting it. “I’m really happy for you guys, that’s awesome.”

They’re making a much bigger deal about this than they did Xiao’s health issues. The comment about not telling them sooner about their relationship is especially comforting, because they hadn’t pressed that about his health. It only further settles the growing contentment in his soul, and though he knows it isn’t to last, he feels at peace.

Xingqiu, Chongyun and Venti opt to build a blanket fort. They chat aimlessly about school and work, and Xiao dozes in and out. It’s a nice blanket fort when it’s finished. Fairy lights, pillows, blankets above and within. Eyes heavy, heart exhausted, warmth unspooling in his chest and a promise to start making things right tomorrow, it isn’t hard to fall asleep.